


SHAME

by DoctorDalek



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, Captivity, Dirty Talk, Humiliation, M/M, Masturbation, Mpreg, Phone Sex, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, espousal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-06-08 01:18:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 39
Words: 83,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6833008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorDalek/pseuds/DoctorDalek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After spending some intimate time with the Doctor, Captain Jack is about to propose to him but can't find the right words or time. But the harmony between them is soon disrupted as the power goes out in the Tardis and the Doctor has to face an overpowering intruder... WARNING: story contains scenes with m/m, non-con, whump and mpreg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Undisclosed Desires

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on fanfiction.net, but I thought I'd upload a revised version.  
> Since I'm a bit busy I can only upload one chapter per day.  
> Comments are most welcome but not compuslory.
> 
> Alright. I'm still not sure whether I'm proud of this story. Still, I didn't want my readers to miss out on this story.

Jack sneaked up behind the Doctor and gave him a gentle tap on the shoulder.  
The Doctor nearly jumped and screamed with shock.

"God damn it Jack!" the Doctor turned around to his snickering boyfriend, "How many times did I tell you not to…"  
Jack wrapped his hands tightly around the Doctor's neck and pulled his head towards his. He kissed him passionately and licked the Doctor's lips impatiently before forcing his tongue inside his mouth. The Doctor's attempts to stop Jack from gaining control over his body were useless. After a short struggle he gave in.  
If Jack wanted to have him right now, he'd get him right now.  
Jack left him no choice. He never did.

The Doctor's mouth stayed ajar as Jack licked the Doctor's teeth and tried to force its way deeper and deeper into his oral cavity.  
Suddenly he pulled away from the Doctor. The grunting and gasping of the Doctor seemed to be even more of a turn on.

"Turn around" Jack's words got swallowed up by his constant panting.  
Jack clasped the Doctor's hips and forced him down on the floor, rolling around and stroking his hair like mad. Eventually Jack stopped while he was on top of the Doctor and pressed his knees against his thighs, forcing the Doctor to open them slightly.  
"I never should have given you a key to the Tardis" the Doctor moaned and grasped Jack's hands.

"Please be patient" mumbled the Doctor while he tried to free himself from his garment.  
"You know that I won't be" smiled Jack.

He ripped the clothes off the Doctor's body but only undid his belt and pulled his trousers down to his knees.  
Jack let the Doctor spread his legs for him; he enjoyed it when he surrendered to his desires.  
The Doctor placed his feet on the floor and slipped towards Jack's crotch.  
Jack leaned over him and tried to kiss him once more before entering but the Doctor evaded his touch.  
"Jack, please" whispered the Doctor; his voice was trembling with fear "Be careful with me."  
Jack chuckled and forced his tongue down the Doctor's throat. Then he kissed his neck.  
"I love to hear you beg."

Slowly Jack slipped towards the beloved body, rubbing his crotch on those soft thighs, feeling him skin on skin. Oh, the Doctor had a divine body, thin, lightweight... and a goddamn tight hole.  
Jack felt the throbbing of his cock increasing at the mere thought of it.  
He entered the Doctor's body abruptly and pressed his hands over his mouth. He didn't want to hear him scream right now.  
He could still save it for later.  
Jack knew that he demanded much from the Doctor. The penetration had always been a great physical exertion for the Doctor as well. Although they were about the same size, and in fact Jack didn't like to think about it, he must have weighed twice as much as him. Therefore he didn't like being on top of him. Jack had always been afraid that he could have hurt him.  
At least more than he actually wanted to.

Jack grasped the Doctor's shoulders and increased the speed slowly, moving the upper edge of his hip bones monotonously against the Doctor's. The Doctor had such a delicate and small pelvis. He had always been fascinated how the body beneath his own shivered and writhed, how fast and strong the vibrations and contractions became the more violent and painful he penetrated him.  
Jack had already achieved the desired effect. The Doctor's hearts were racing and couldn't speed up anymore. He figured he had stimulated him enough.

The Doctor groaned while feeling Jack's hot semen gushing out of his tight hole. He closed his eyes; his face was distorted with pain.  
Jack released his grip and moved carefully backwards, pulling his limp member slowly out of the Doctor.  
"Jack, I told you I don't like that" hissed the Doctor.  
"Just do it quickly."  
"I never will."  
Jack smiled.

It had been three months since the Doctor had agreed to give him a key to the Tardis. Jack loved sneaking into the Tardis, even if the Doctor wasn't there. He felt honoured to be allowed to step into his home, his secret hiding place every time he wanted to.  
Nothing was more intimate to the Doctor than the Tardis.

Jack rolled the Doctor from his back to his stomach and stroked his hair. The Doctor sighed and pulled on Jack's arm. Jack understood and lay down beside him. He felt that his pants were tightening again and therefore would have much more enjoyed it to place himself on top of the Doctor. But there was still the weight... He was afraid of the Doctor coughing or gasping for air and he knew that in that case he would feel fat.

"You can't be satisfied, can you?" sighed the Doctor when Jack pressed his hips against the Doctor's. Jack laid and arm around the Doctor and nibbled on his ear.  
"You've got a one-track mind" mumbled the Doctor and turned his head towards Jack: "and I'm sorry, I'm really sorry but I'm afraid I can't help you with that."  
"Of course you can" replied Jack, "don't put your trousers back on." He laughed and places his hands on the Doctors' hips; even the Doctor had to smile.  
"I'm sorry, Jack" gently the Doctor pushed his hands aside "But I'm freezing." Jack nodded and watched the Doctor dressing himself dreamily.  
Soon Jack would propose to him. He just had to wait for the right moment.  
But it wasn't that easy with the Doctor.

If he was in the mood for sex Jack would seize the opportunity and wouldn't try to create a somewhat romantic atmosphere. And if the Doctor wasn't in the mood... well, then Jack had to convince him that he actually was.  
Jack had to admit that he was pushing the Doctor a little bit too hard. And not only physically. He didn't know what the Doctor wanted; what he liked, what he enjoyed... Sometimes he got almost the impressions that Gallifreyans weren't born for having sex. But it could have been the Doctor only, too.

"The Tardis' pretty chilly" mumbled Jack and kissed the Doctor's neck after getting to his feet again.  
"I don't care" replied the Doctor, "as long as I know that there's someone here to keep me warm..." He snuggled with Jack and put his arms around his chest again. The Doctor felt save in the arms of his lover. He felt needed and loved.  
He wished the moment to last forever.

And then Jack's phone rang.

The Doctor sighed disappointedly and let go off his lover.  
Jack started fumbling with his trouser's pockets and picked up while leaving the Tardis, whispering to the Doctor "I'll be right back..." before answering the caller with a military undertone in his voice.  
He didn't like getting disturbed while spending time with the Doctor. With HIS Doctor.

The Doctor sighed and patted some levers of the Tardis.  
He knew that it must have been someone from Torchwood. And he hated Torchwood. Not only for destroying the romantic moment. He had hoped that Jack would give up his work there for him. But the dear Captain refused to quit, although the Doctor had hold out the prospect of letting him travel with him. Jack was looking for doing those things, really, but in his spare time only.

The Doctor looked at the screen and the notes in Gallifreyan he had left there.  
Some of them were really hard to read. He didn't even know what he had tried to write down.  
He sighed.

He had really hoped that the key would have been more important to Jack. He had given Jack an entrance key to the Tardis, what else was there to say? He loved him! He wanted to be with him. Just the two of them, in here. Forever.  
He chuckled. That sure was romantic. Maybe Jack rubbed off on him.  
Alright, he had to admit it, he did. And in more than one way...

The door of the Tardis opened.  
The Doctor scribbled a little note to remind him that he really should improve his Gallifreyan again. He could barely read his own handwriting and he surely wasn't as well-versed in grammar as he used to be.  
"Didn't take that long, did it?" mumbled the Doctor.  
The screen went black. The Doctor looked up. The lights were fading. The power in the Tardis was down.

"What did you...?"

He broke off in mid-sentence. Someone wrapped his fingers around his neck and choked him before forcing him down to the floor.  
The Doctor's face was brutally pressed against the ground, which made it practically impossible for him to open his mouth.  
One hand of the invader was on his neck, with the other one he tried to undo the Doctor's belt and undressed him.  
The invader breathed down his neck and panted:

"I'm so sorry..."


	2. Forced in

The Doctor gasped for air. Someone had sneaked up behind him and had forced him down onto the ground.  
While tossing asid his garments the invader knelt over the Doctor, who laid fixed on his stomach.  
"Just stay quiet and it will be over in a minute" mumbled the man above the Doctor.  
He palpated his body and pushed his hands into the Doctor's trouser pockets to reveal the sonic screwdriver.  
"I'm afraid I can't let you keep this for now..."

The Doctor tossed and turned and tried to free himself from the stranger's grip. But resistance was futile.  
"I told you to keep quiet" whispered the man above the Doctor once more. "Just try to put up with it..."  
The stranger touched the Doctor's buttocks with fascination before trying to enter his tight body by force.

The Doctor's head got smashed against the floor until his sight was blurred with blood and tears.  
He felt his hearts racing and finally managed to scream.

"Goddamn it!" the intruder slapped him on the back of his head before pulling his head upwards by his hair.  
"It's useless! Just shut up!"

The Doctor shook his head. He tasted blood on his lips and couldn't free his hands. But he refused to give in.  
"Please" the Doctor was pleading now, "Let me go. Just stop right now, I'm begging you, I won't..."  
He received another blow on the head and spat.  
The stranger pressed the Doctor's head onto the floor again. He spread his legs, dominating them with his knees, until they hurt so badly that the Doctor had to yelp.

Every thrust was painful and deeper; the stranger penetrated him unrhythmically and fast and choked him again as often as the Doctor dared to try to defend himself.  
The Doctor cried silently while his hands were tied behind his back with his tie. The lower part of his body was pure pain.  
He winced as the stranger ejaculated inside of him; his hot body fluid burnt in his internal lesions.  
The stranger got to his feet again, fast and ungainly.

The Doctor didn't dare to move.  
Tears were running down his cheeks. He swallowed to prevent himself from crying out loud.

"Don't let Jack come near you ever again" commanded the voice, "Try to forget him."

The Doctor was still unable to move even after the footsteps had faded away and the door of the Tardis had been slammed shut.  
The knot untied itself and his hands were free again.  
But the Doctor didn't dare to move.  
He could bear the pain he was currently in. He knew it would be worse if he moved.  
His mind was racing.

The lights went on again.  
The Doctor's face was mirrored in a metal ornament near the floor of the Tardis. Unbelievingly he touched his bruised forehead and bleeding nose.  
He didn't understand it. He couldn't believe what had just happened to him.  
He was speechless. He just _couldn't_ believe it.

Jack had walked through that door right before...

He had great difficulties with getting to his feet again and manoeuvred his body to an upright position again by holding on to several items of the Tardis.

The Doctor breathed in deeply and tried to forget about the pain, tried to forget about the despair and the embarrassment.  
He wiped his face.  
He must be dreaming. It felt so… unreal, so far away… just past belief…

The Doctor sobbed but tried to calm himself by swallowing hard and coughing.  
There was no use of crying over spilt milk. Or something resembling milk…

He turned around in disgust and held on to a rail before collapsing to the floor again. He felt like puking out his guts, but it was just a cold comfort knowing that he'd be unable to do so.  
He buried his face in his hands and cried.

What did just happen? , he asked himself over and over again.  
Eventually his muffled cries died away and the Doctor tried to suppress a sob.

The constant humming of the Tardis soothed him.  
He looked at the ceiling, unbelieving that he was still in here, in the Tardis and in his own body.  
But he remembered as soon as the doors were flung open again.

"If I had known what this was all about I never would have picked it up…" Jack closed the doors behind him carelessly.  
The Doctor turned away to evade his gaze and searched his pockets for a handkerchief after putting on his tie again.  
"And if I say I wouldn't PICK something UP, then that's something new, isn't it Doctor?"  
Jack smiled and patted him on the back.

The Doctor nodded silently, hiding his bleeding nose in the recently discovered handkerchief.  
"Oh, I thought you were used to it by now" sighed Jack, misjudging the Doctor's behaviour and bodily reaction as a way of expressing his embarrassment,  
"You know, that's just me, smutty jokes, being on the ball… or actually on TWO BALLS…"

Again the Doctor nodded.

Jack stopped smiling and gave the Doctor a worried look.  
"What's wrong?" asked Jack.  
"Nothing" mumbled the Doctor.  
"Then why didn't you say "Stop it, Jack"?"

The Doctor sat down on the floor again carefully.  
"What's happened?"  
"Like I said, it's nothing…I'm just… I'm feeling a bit dizzy, that's all…"  
Jack tried to read his face; the Doctor closed his eyes again and breathed in deeply.  
He had wanted to smile and thereby convince Jack that everything was alright.  
But he couldn't. He just couldn't.

If he would change his facial expression… It was hard enough to hold back his tears right now.  
"It's alright Jack" managed the Doctor to mumble icily "I'm fine."

"Okay…" from the corner of his eyes Jack observed the Doctor.

He was staring at the controls of the Tardis. He checked on the computer again, unbelievingly. There had been a power blackout.  
But it hadn't been documented by the automatic registration.  
There was just nothing, no information, no defect report… as if the past moments hadn't even existed.  
If no one had entered the Tardis…

Jack patted him on the shoulder. "I'd better be going then, shan't I?"  
The Doctor winced. "You're still there?"  
Jack cocked an eyebrow. "Are you sure that everything's alright then?"  
The Doctor nodded and grasped his left hand.  
"It was very nice of you to pop in" explained the Doctor hurriedly and walked him to the door.  
Jack wrapped his fingers around the small jewelry box in his coat pocket.  
"But Doctor, if I could…"  
"Not now Jack" interrupted the Doctor and pushed him outside firmly.  
Jack pulled out the jewelry box as the Doctor slammed and locket the door in his face.  
"See ya" he heard the Doctor shouting from the inside as the Doctor hurried back to the controls, tears running down his cheeks again.

Jack sighed. The box with the ring disappeared in his pocket again. He scratched his head while the Tardis started to vanish.  
You never knew what the Doctor was thinking , he told himself again.  
Right now Jack had really hoped that he'd been a Time Lord too.

Maybe then he would have known when the right moment had come for him to propose to the Doctor.  
He sighed again, patting the box in the pocket absent-mindedly.

"But I'll never know…" mumbled Jack.


	3. Ruled by Secrecy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of romance ahead and a bit of smut...

Hidden behind innumerable books which formed gigantic piles the Doctor was reading in the Tardis' library.

He'd crouched into a chair and seemed to be covered in books as well, several were resting in his lap, or falling from his knees when he turned pages and shifted position.  
Actually it wasn't even a chair he was currently sitting on.  
The seat consisted of books as well, but due to the fact that they weren't of interest to him he had covered them with a cloth and completely forgotten about them.  
Although he had to admit that the chair didn't feel that comfortable.

The Doctor sighed while tossing a book aside and pulling out a different one from a stack, which collapsed instantly.

His eyes scanned the books; he turned the pages so fast that some of them ended up in his hands, ripped out before simply descending to the already page-covered floor.  
The Doctor didn't even know what he was looking for.  
He had forgotten as soon as he had realized what a mess his library had become since he'd stopped caring for it. He'd spent too much time with humans lately.  
Or Jack.  
He tossed another book aside.  
Books, in the form of torn bits and loose sheets, were usually scattered around the room never to be recomposed ever again;  
except for a few rare scripts, like the book of Dr. Neakahla (probably the last copy not stuck on Gallifrey right now) and some extraordinary physicochemical documents as well the library had filled with the typical 'I'll definitely take a look at it as soon as I find the time' light reading.

The Doctor's mind was currently stuck in a solar system which was fortunate to have six suns of different sizes and complexity; otherwise it probably wouldn't have ended up in a book like that.

The lights above him flickered.  
His eyes focused on the ground where he'd see himself struggling with the stranger again, fighting a superior opponent and losing; feeling the stranger maculating him once more, taking him by force, hard, ruthlessly, forcing himself into his delicate body, pushing him brutally while throttling his screams...

The Doctor flinched.  
He rubbed his eyes and breathed out unnerved.  
Those memories just wouldn't stop flowing back and racing through his mind. The same sequence rewound over and over again.

He had tried everything. He'd tried anger, he'd tried grief, he'd tried denial, he'd simply tried forgetting about it all...  
But the memories wouldn't stop. Over and over again, the same thing over and over again.  
He'd been defenceless, there was no denying that.  
He hadn't been able to protect himself.  
And he had found himself tossing strange thoughts around in his head.  
If only Jack had been there...

The Doctor pushed the books from his lap. He had to stop thinking about it. He just had to! He couldn't change it anyway.

He had to give up looking for an explanation.  
There was no reason.  
Those were things that simply happened without a reason.  
 _To the weak_ , added a low voice in his head.

He snorted and ran his fingers through his hair. He had to stop himself from recalling it over and over again. There was no sense in becoming paranoid.  
He just had to quit thinking; that was all.

The Doctor pulled a book from a pile and watched its desintegration with fascination.  
He had to forget about it.  
Life goes on. Although life wasn't too short for him to think about the bad things all the time, it had to stop nonetheless.  
He had to get on with it, to read on and rearrange the library a bit.  
Although he had a strange feeling that the library resembled his mind in too many ways...

Much to his surprise the Doctor found the remaining book in his lap to be a cookbook. He hadn't even known that those things existed in his library as well. He didn't care much for useless books. You couldn't read a cookbook, for a start. Not properly. It was not even a real book after all. And he couldn't cook.

Well, he was a Time Lord; he'd succeed on those primitive customs as well, he assumed. But he had never felt the NEED for cooking before.  
He'd probably never craved anything before.  
He dug his nails into his thighs.  
Apart from Jack...

"Oh deary me, no..." The Doctor sighed.  
It was totally normal; welll, probably.  
It had got to have something to do with the hormones, or pheromones or those other bloody things which humans had as well. The Doctor figured that Jack must have transmitted them; like you passed on a cold... or something like that, anyway.

Why did he keep thinking about Captain Jack Harkness?  
What was so special about him?

He sighed. He never minced matters. Or made bones about it. Or boners.  
He chuckled.  
Blimey, Jack rubbed off on him. And no, that wasn't ambiguous. Alright, perhaps a tiny bit.  
The Doctor shrugged and stood up. He'd never succeed in rearranging the library.  
He'd rather learn how to cook...

He scuffled back to the controls of the Tardis and pocketed the cell phone.  
Before leaving he checked on the door again.  
It was locked. No one could enter without him noticing.  
The Doctor took a look around in the Tardis. He had never felt the urge to cook before – he didn't even know if there was a kitchen in the Tardis.  
But nearly everything was to be found in the Tardis, so...

After exploring floors he hadn't visited in years he had actually found what he had been looking for. Of course there _was_ a kitchen in the Tardis.  
The Doctor grinned while entering it but placed the book on the stove and left the room immediately.  
What's wrong with me? , he asked himself.  
Why am I even doing this? I should be off, looking for new companions or adventures... instead I'm sitting in here and waiting and I don't even know what I'm waiting for.  
I feel like an idiot.

The Doctor sighed.  
The cell phone rang. Although he had put it in his pocket a few moments earlier he nearly jumped when it vibrated. He picked it up.  
"Hello there, Doctor, I came to notice that you're still parking around here."  
Jack's voice. Jack's soothing, wonderful and comforting voice. The Doctor felt his hearts racing.  
"I have?" he asked lost in thought.

"Well, actually I'm just calling because... you know, well, I've always wanted to call someone at home from work, although I'd always imagined I'd use names like "Honey" or "Darling" or..."  
"I am in my Tardis" replied the Doctor bluntly, "I gave you a key to it. And it's a spaceship, not a bloody home."  
"But you've got nothing else, have you?" Jack objected.  
"And that's why you were calling?" snapped the Doctor, "To tease me?"  
"I'm always teasing you" replied Jack "And I couldn't think of anything else."  
"Couldn't think of anything apart from what?" asked the Doctor, shifting from one foot to the other uneasily.  
"Anything else apart from returning to the Tardis and giving you a good spanking because you'd damn well deserve it" groaned Jack.

The Doctor felt the blood rushing down into his pelvic area.  
"Stop it Jack" he replied and closed his eyes in order to repress the urge to let his fingers slide down and reach for his crotch "Please, just stop it."  
"Oh, you think you're so clever, my dear Time Lord" chuckled Jack on the phone "You think you're the only one who can see and feel what others are thinking. You think you're the only one who notices all that interpersonal stuff. But let me tell you something: I can hear how your pants are tightening, even here at Torchwood."  
The Doctor gasped.  
"I hope for your sake that no one's listening right now" hissed the Doctor.  
"I can assure you that I'm all alone" replied Jack, "and I really think you should get a headset, too."

The Doctor concentrated on not getting a hard on right now. "And why do you think that, Jack?"  
"Because then you'd have both hands to touch yourself like I have right now."

The Doctor shivered. He hated to hear him talking like that. He got really... uneasy. It made him feel sweaty and...dirty.  
But not in a good way.  
It felt like something he should be ashamed of. As if it just shouldn't be done; at least not by him.

"So..." Jack groaned and breathed noisily "Would you mind if I'd make an appointment with you, Doctor? Do you have time for me? Or... could you just squeeze me in?" Jack chuckled again; the Doctor felt his hot fingers stroking his privates through the fabric of his pants.

"Just drop in for a second" mumbled the Doctor and pulled his fingers away.  
"Oh, I'd really hoped you'd last longer than that" moaned Jack, "but don't worry I'll liven you up."  
"See you later..." the Doctor was about to hang up as his glance settled on the book which was still on the stove.   
"Jack, wait" added the Doctor hurriedly "could you please bring me something?"  
"Okay..."  
"Could you buy some milk for me?" he asked "And could you get me some eggs?" The Doctor closed his eyes.

He KNEW that Jack was going to make a salacious remark, or even more than one and only hoped that he wouldn't blush.

"Okay" was the only answer the Doctor received "'s that all?"  
"Yeah, thank you" replied the Doctor irritated "and thank you in advance, Jack. See you."  
He hung up and breathed in deeply.

He didn't even know what it was that made him shiver all over. Something about Jack made him feel... uneasy.

But still he shivered all over if he thought about him.  
Jack.  
His Jack.


	4. Feeling Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright... some serious smutt and a cliff-hanger ahead...

The Doctor looked forward to Jack's visit. Not that he was actually waiting for him...  
No, he'd spend most of the time tripping over books in the library or resisting the temptation of turning on the stove and watching how the cookbook would burn to a cinder.

He felt stupid. He felt really, really stupid. And he didn't even know if it was more stupid to want to burn a cookbook. due to the possibility that you'd incidentally enjoy cooking, or to give it a try.

The Doctor sighed.  
He felt foolish.  
He felt _human_.

But he had to chuckle nonetheless. He'd spent too much time with Jack lately.  
And though he'd enjoyed it very much but... He was genuinely worried about the current situation.  
There was nothing wrong with Jack, really.

He shook his head and headed back to the controls of the Tardis, locking up the library.

Alright. EVERYTHING was wrong with Jack. But he couldn't help it.  
It wasn't his fault, not entirely. He was just... human.  
He had instincts; he had urges; oh boy he had URGES!  
But, and that was very important to the Doctor, he was very emotional; he did everything he did with feeling;  
he was sentimental; he was...

The Doctor ran his fingers through his hair and tried to allay the arising bad thoughts.  
The bad memories, down on the floor, on his stomach, in the dark, helplessly...

The Doctor listened to the humming of the Tardis. He sighed and looked at the ground.  
With every glance it came back, with every blink it was there, inside of his head or down on the floor at his feet;  
the moment where he had thought that he could've escaped; the moment before it had happened.

The Doctor shook his head and took a deep breath while heading to the library again. It was of no use. It was best to forget all about it.

Someone grabbed the Doctor from behind by the shoulders and forced him against the door.

His hearts stopped for a second as he remained motionless. His eyes widened.

"Missed me?"  
Jack chuckled behind his back.

The Doctor in breathed deeply. "Don't do that ever again, Jack."

Jack turned him around without releasing his firm grip on his shoulders.  
"Oh Doctor" Jack sighed, "I must admit I'm a bit disappointed. You could have prepared yourself for me, really. At least you could have been naked. After all I pay you a courtesy visit."  
"You're confusing courtesy with pleasingness again, Jack" replied the Doctor bluntly.  
"Same thing, I guess" sighed Jack, "but you're right about the pleasingness, Doctor."  
Jack came closer and whispered in his ear: "I want to please you and you'll please me with begging for more and more and more..."

The Doctor pushed him aside gently. "You come to business very quickly" muttered the Doctor.  
"Oh, by the way..." Jack turned around to the bag he had put down on the floor beside the stairs. "I got what you were asking for... although; I thought you'd know that you don't have to ASK for my eggs..." He chuckled and handed the Doctor the bag.  
The Doctor rolled his eyes before checking the bag's contents.  
"Thank you, Jack" replied the Doctor eventually, adding in a lower voice "but I had hoped that it would be possible without a smutty remark..."

"Oh, come on Doctor" Jack grasped him round the waist and made the Doctor drop the bag "I know you're expecting it from me."  
"Expecting, maybe" hissed the Doctor while Jack kissed his neck "But I'm not asking for it."  
Jack cut him off. "Oh, you're SO asking for it!"  
He grabbed the Doctor's tie and pulled him closer.  
He placed his lips on the Doctor's and forced his tongue between his teeth, kissing him passionately and undressing him quickly.  
The Doctor contributed by holding still. Only when Jack tried to push him down to the floor he offered resistance.

"No!"  
the Doctor had freed his lips and gasped.  
Jack looked at him in bewilderment.  
"Please, Jack" the Doctor put his arms around Jack's neck and pulled him closer. "I want to keep eye contact. I want to see you."  
Jack nodded and pressed the Doctor's back against the library door. The Doctor wrapped his legs around Jack's hips and gazed into his eyes.

"Are you sure you want to do this here?" Jack asked.  
The Doctor nodded.  
"I mean... I don't suppose you've got a bed around here somewhere, do you?" Jack went on.  
The Doctor shrugged.  
"Probably...but haven't seen it in years."

"Never mind" replied Jack hurriedly. It was best not to discourage the Doctor. He had agreed to sleep with Jack, by not saying anything against it, and that was more than Jack could wish for, actually.

Jack rubbed his member against the Doctor's thighs and buttocks.  
The Doctor gritted his teeth. He felt a bit uneasy.  
What if it hurts? , he asked himself, What if it hurts like it had hurt the last time, with _him_?

Jack kissed his neck and shoulders. He could sense his anxiety. The Doctor was desperate, but Jack didn't mind that at all.  
Not that he didn't care; he assumed it to be normal for a Time Lord.  
It had always been this way with him.  
Jack pushed his member into the Doctor's tight hole and felt how the Doctor held his breath.  
He stroked his thighs carefully as he picked up a slow pace.

Jack had often wondered about the Doctor's sexuality. Not about his sexual orientation of course, but about his...urges, for instance.  
He doubted that there was even a word in Gallifreyan for that. Usually the Doctor seemed...frigid.  
No, not frigid actually. More like... asexual. Or undersexed.  
And it was normal for a Time Lord, probably.  
But what made it interesting was the fact that Jack could arouse him, he could awaken feelings and urges within the Doctor. And he knew that the Doctor tried to suppress them.  
In other words: Jack could provoke emotions the Doctor tried to deny...

The Doctor grunted and rubbed his face against Jack's shoulder.  
"Jack" hissed the Doctor and bit his lip "you're hurting me again. Please, slow down!"  
Jack was about to concede when he changed his mind and picked up speed.  
"Jack!" pleaded the Doctor and scratched his nails across his back.  
"Don't you think I know that you're enjoying this?" asked Jack and moaned.  
He liked the Doctor being rough on him.  
"You WANT me to hurt you; your eyes are begging for more again."

The Doctor swallowed and held on to Jack who tried to penetrate him deeper. But he couldn't succeed.  
The Doctor was too tight. He wasn't relaxed enough.

Jack guided the Doctor's hand down to his pelvic area and tried to let him clasp his own member, but the Doctor stayed stubborn and refused to touch himself.  
Jack jacked him off, which was funny when you came to think about it, even for him, although he had always wanted to force the Doctor to masturbate in front of him, so that he could watch how the Doctor touched himself properly.

Jack didn't know if this was different with Time Lords. He didn't know if Time Lords masturbated at all. Maybe they had other techniques, or a different rhythm, or different erogenous zones, who knew?  
Well, Jack thought, definitely not the Doctor. And somehow he didn't seem to get the hang of the whole interspecies-sex-thing, either.

Jack suspected that Time Lords weren't meant to have sex, or, more specific: they weren't MADE to have sex.  
He reminded himself of that every time he felt the Doctor skin on skin.

The Doctor was small-built; he assumed he had a weak bone structure, at least it felt like that; he thought he could hear his pelvis cracking from time to time when he was inside of him; his lumbar spine was inflexible, which made it harder for Jack to push him properly. All in all it seemed as if he wasn't built for sex, at least not with a human being who was hung like a horse.  
But every time he tried to penetrate the Doctor it seemed as if something was signalizing "You're doing it the wrong way!" all over his body.  
Something tried telling him that Time Lords shouldn't get laid.

And that was what made it so much fun.

Jack felt that he was using him in an incorrect way.  
He KNEW that he was using his body in an incorrect way. But it was too tempting not to try it.  
And he knew that the Doctor was begging it off him. Although he knew that it was wrong he grasped his body as often as he could, he pressed the chest with the two beating hearts inside against his own and proved to him his manhood.

"So, Doctor" panted Jack "Tell me how you feel."  
The Doctor gasped for air while Jack still guided his hands across his body in order to please himself. His back hurt – the wall Jack pressed him against felt cold.  
"Tell me Doctor" commanded Jack and let the Doctor's hand touch the soft skin of his own member "What do you feel?"  
Jack grasped the Doctor's chin and pulled his head towards his face.  
The Doctor blushed and evaded Jack's stare until Jack forced him to look him in the eye.

"Guilt" replied the Doctor abashed, "and shame."

"So, you're ashamed" repeated Jack and stroked the Doctor's erect limb, "Tell me, Doctor, what are you ashamed of?"

"Jack, please stop" whispered the Doctor, but there was no stopping Jack, no, he had waited for so long to finally gain control over the Doctor, over both his emotions and bodily sensations.

"Just tell me, Doctor" ordered Jack, "be obedient and tell me why you're feeling so embarrassed."  
The Doctor bit his lip and joined in the rhythmical thrust of Jack, letting his body be pushed harder and faster.  
But Jack wouldn't let the silence spoil this moment.  
He finally had the Doctor where he had always wanted to have him.

"Are you ashamed because you're being penetrated and brought to heel by a primitive human being or because you ENJOY being penetrated and brought to heel by a primitive human being?"  
The Doctor moaned and gasped for air.  
"You like being pushed around... or how I'm pushing myself into you...but you know that it's wrong.  
And that's what you like about it.  
It's wrong, just wrong and you know that you shouldn't be doing this, not with a human being and probably not even with another Time Lord. But definitely not with a simple and underdeveloped human being. Ain't that right, Doctor?"  
The Doctor dug his nails into Jack's back and moaned.

And finally that the hard work paid off as the Doctor moaned into Jack's ear:

"Yes, Jack, oh yes, you make me feel so ashamed of myself...and I'm so guilty because I can't suppress those venereal desires, I've got sexual instincts that I can't control and I can't hold back as soon as I feel your hands touching my skin and I long for your touch and I long for you to force your way into me and I want to take you in, deeper and deeper..."

The Doctor coughed and pressed his lower abdomen against Jack's pelvis, he tried to pave the way for Jack to penetrate him deeply.  
"I guess it's normal for a Time Lord to be undersexed" Jack went on, "But not for you Doctor, no, you need me, you want to be pleased so goddamn hard..." "I'm not hard to please" interrupted the Doctor, "just go deeper and faster."  
"I never knew you could be passionate" groaned Jack, "is this commonly found with Time Lords?"

The Doctor panted and breathed in deeply between every few words:  
"The sex urge is sufficient to insure the coming together for the reproduction of the species. That's the way it was on Gallifrey."

"Oh, what a waste" Jack kissed the Doctor impassioned "what a waste just to do this for a specific purpose only."

"The sexual act is no act of passion" yelped the Doctor "it's an act of solidarity towards the species; it's an act of humility."  
"Whom are you quoting?" asked Jack.

Their sweat mixed on their thighs.  
"Dr...Neakahla" panted the Doctor.  
"Well, he makes it sound dry and boring" replied Jack "But I guess we can both agree on the humiliation part" smiled Jack and stepped up the pace.  
"It's humility, you idiot!" The Doctor groaned and shivered.

Jack hurt him, he knew he hurt him but he had to. He wanted to feel the Doctor; he wanted to feel his lust, to feel his pain, to feel his anger and his devotion. He wanted to truly become one with him.

The Doctor's shoulders twitched uncontrollably. He swallowed and cried Jack's name over and over again.  
He couldn't take anymore, Jack knew. But he couldn't stop; not now.  
The Doctor wore himself out; he tried to arouse Jack even more by whispering arousing things over and over again; though he didn't notice that half of them were Gallifreyan.  
But Jack didn't care, he wanted to succeed, he wanted to achieve his aim and penetrated him ruthlessly and merciless.

The Doctor winced in pain as Jack ejaculated inside of him and clung on to him, hot tears welling up in his eyes.  
Jack rubbed the Doctor's member gently and vigorously and tried to pull his own member out of the Doctor.

"Don't, Jack..." the Doctor opened his eyes and gave him a pleading look "don't...it just... hurts...don't..."  
Jack kissed him on the forehead and smiled mildly. "I know, dear" he replied in a soothing voice "but you know: love hurts."  
"Don't you dare sing it" hissed the Doctor. Jack chuckled.  
"Just try to relax."

Jack jerked him off, but tried to alternate between his own hands and the hands of the Doctor, which he'd guide with care. It seemed to him as if the Doctor hadn't done this... releasing of pressure before.  
The Doctor breathed in deeply; his sexual pleasure increased with Jack's limp limb still inside of him and he simply came on Jack's and his own hands.  
Jack pulled out of him slowly and grasped the Doctor's hands. He lowered his head.

"No, don't... Jack, you can't...!"

Jack's hot and moist tongue licked his hands clean.

"You're disgusting!" The Doctor freed his hands from Jack's grip and lowered his feet on to the ground again. Jack laughed.  
"What's so funny about that?" the Doctor asked furiously.  
"Nothing, Doctor" Jack patted him on the back, "It's good to see that you're back to normal."  
"Well, don't think I'll take that back, you ARE disgusting Captain Jack Harkness."  
"I like it when you say my name like that" smiled Jack. "And I like the fury in your eyes. But listen, Doctor: Don't look at me like that.  
I don't think you can take another round. You're still shivering all over. You're simply not made to copulate as often as we primitive human beings."

The Doctor gritted his teeth.  
Jack wouldn't stop smiling for the next few hours, the Doctor figured. He breathed in deeply.  
Jack lowered him down to the floor.  
The Doctor stretched his legs.  
They hurt.  
His back hurt, his body hurt, everything seemed to hurt... but at least he could convince himself that it was Jack's fault.

Jack always bruised him. But it was alright.  
As long as he knew that the pain didn't originate from something else... or someone else, who had invaded his Tardis...  
...someone who had invaded him as well...

The Doctor flinched and coughed. He bristled with anger.  
Why, why why, he asked himself, why couldn't he forget?

Jack had dressed himself again and lifted the Doctor up carefully.  
"Come on, sweetheart" he grinned and carried him over the stairs, "I know you're exhausted."

The Doctor gritted his teeth again and hissed: "If you dare to call me that ever again I swear, Jack..."  
Jack cut him off by sealing his mouth with his lips. He kissed him deeply and raised his head again.

The Doctor shook his head.  
"Jack Harkness, you are an idiot" he folded his arms "and don't tell me you left my clothes downstairs."  
"I like it this way" explained Jack, "You don't even have to take off your clothes."  
"Don't think that you can run around naked once you have moved into the Tardis" the Doctor chuckled.  
Jack felt his heart beating faster.  
"Moving in?" he repeated.

The Doctor laughed. "I was only joking" he explained "I know that you wouldn't like to spend the rest of your days with me; you know, with only one partner, and he's not even human." The Doctor kissed Jack's neck.  
Jack sighed and tried to smile. "Guess you're right" he mumbled and cursed himself.  
"And neither would I like to be your naked housewife; think about it Jack" the Doctor chuckled again.  
Jack nodded gloomily.

"No, don't think about it" the Doctor had to correct himself "You might as well enjoy it."

"I get your clothes" replied Jack and hurried downstairs as soon as he had lowered the Doctor down to the floor.  
He returned after a few moments and smiled. He tried to hide his disappointment.

"What a pity" he sighed as the Doctor dressed himself again.  
"Don't get used to it" replied the Doctor "I don't know how long I'll stay around here."  
He straightened up again. His back was killing him but he tried to dissimulate it by groaning and stretching.  
"You know, I've thought about it for a while... just go on another journey, explore the stars and whatsoever..."  
"Don't worry" Jack smirked "I'll always try to find you."

The Doctor looked at Jack's wrist strap, which Jack presented provocatively.  
"No, Jack, you know I can't let you keep it..." the Doctor fumbled around in his pockets and froze.

The screwdriver.  
He had no sonic screwdriver, not anymore.  
 _He_ 'd taken it.

"Oh, please Doctor; just let me keep it this once. It's just not fair! I want to stay in touch with you."  
The Doctor nodded and cleared his throat.  
"Might be an option" he muttered.

Jack kissed his hands. "Thank you Doctor" he smiled, "I'm sure you won't regret it."  
Jack looked around and the vortex manipulator disappeared in his sleeve again.  
"Unless, of course, your Tardis wouldn't approve... But I won't use it as long as I'm in here, I promise."

The Doctor nodded.  
No screwdriver. No sonic screwdriver.  
What was he supposed to do now? Without his sonic device he felt...

"Doctor?"  
The Doctor turned around to Jack who gave him a worried look. "What is it with you these days?" asked Jack uncertainly and helped the Doctor to get back to his feet again.  
"My mind's wandering" he replied and looked around the Tardis, "as always..."

Jack.  
The intruder had spoken of Jack, the Doctor remembered now.  
He had advised him to keep away from him. But why?  
What had it to do with Jack?

"Are you sure you're alright?"Jack asked irritated.  
It was normal for the Doctor to forget what he was talking about, or where he was, or why he carried a golf bag with flamingos inside.  
Happened once. Jack sighed. That sure had been a strange weekend...  
But it was different now. HE was different. He behaved as if...

"Doctor?"  
"Yes, Jack."  
"Did anything happen? While I was away... Did anything..."  
"It's alright, Jack." The Doctor tried to smile "everything's alright. I'm... I'm tired, that's all. Just a bit weary."  
"I don't blame you" smiled Jack "and don't worry. I won't keep you long. I expect you want your privacy, afterwards." He winked.

The Doctor sighed. "Jack, how many times did I tell you today that you're an idiot?"  
"Twice, I guess" replied Jack.  
"Make it three, then" said the Doctor "You're an idiot."  
"I know, dear" whispered Jack while he kissed the Doctor on the forehead, hoping the Doctor would have heard it. But he didn't.

"And Doctor" Jack walked towards the door of the Tardis, "if you're planning on leaving, just remember: I'll might as well follow you."  
The Doctor nodded.

He felt dizzy. And something wasn't right with his vision. As if everything was fading to black again...  
He gasped in horror.

It got dark.  
The Tardis went dark!

"Jack?"

The door closed and got locked. Jack had left, but he had locked up the door.

The Doctor sank to the ground.  
He was alone, he reassured himself. There was no one in the Tardis, except for him. The lights weren't fading; he was dehydrated, that was all.

He took a deep breath.  
Besides, he was locked in. There was nothing to worry about.  
He laid down on the floor. The Tardis hummed constantly.  
There was nothing to be afraid of, he told himself over and over.

Even though the Doctor was sure that the sounds didn't change, everything in the Tardis went black.  
Absolute darkness. Again.  
But he was alone. There couldn't be anybody else. There simply couldn't be!  
The Doctor tried to turn his head, but he was unable to move. At all.

He tried to shift a bit, to roll over to one side. Nothing. He couldn't move.  
He was losing consciousness.  
The Doctor struggled to keep his eyes open, but it was too dark to see a thing.

But he could feel the firm grip on his ankles as someone dragged him across the floor...


	5. Micro Cuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains lots of gore!

The Doctor had a rude awakening.  
He had tried sitting up and screaming even before he had managed to open his eyes.  
His body ached all over. Every inch of his skin was burning; intolerable pain spread out from his abdomen; tubes had been forced into nearly every bodily orifice.

The Doctor tried moving his head. His eyes were stuck together; his cheeks felt sticky.  
The Doctor would have screamed if he hadn't been currently intubated.  
His body was pure pain.  
Tears formed in his eyes.

Someone performed an incision on his lower abdomen slowly and with care.  
He winced.

"I was afraid that might happen."

The Doctor tried to look up but all he could see was a giant and bright white lamp above his head. He closed his eyes unintentionally.  
He wanted to see _him_ ; he wanted to see the one who dared to...

The Doctor tried to cough.  
Something must have blocked the medical ventilator.  
He shivered, gasped for air and tried to free his fixed head.

An alarm somewhere in the noisy room went off.

A hand in a chainmail glove grabbed the tube, which had been taped to his face, and pulled it out of his throat.  
The Doctor alternated between coughing, spitting and breathing in deeply.  
His neck hurt. His lips felt dry and excoriated.

The hand in the chainmail glove patted him on the forehead.  
"You're body keeps refusing" explained a low voice which belonged, he assumed, to whoever owned the hand in the glove. "And I'm sorry for disturbing your sleep. I guess you can't have a good rest while you're abdominal wall is being removed and your internal organs are being rearranged."

The Doctor panted and let out a cry of despair.  
He'd only stop as his lungs felt as though they'd collapse any second now.

There was a dark silhouette he could catch a glimpse of on the other side of the room.  
It had twitched.  
"I'm not sure why you want to see this" mumbled the low voice while stepping aside and attaching an ECG device via electrodes to his body. The Doctor tried to look around but soon found it to be too bright.  
And the pain in his abdominal region was killing him.

"I have to be here."  
There was this voice in the back of the room.  
"What did you do? Why did he stop breathing a moment ago?"

Aggrieving silence filled the room. Somewhere around the Doctor pumps pumped continuously; there was a strange hissing sound as well.  
The Doctor tried to moisturise his dry lips with his tongue, but it felt dry as well.  
"I didn't intend to disturb you" there was the chainmail glove again, petting his leg "and therefore I'm very sorry. But there's nothing wrong with your bodily functions. You can breathe on your own, your hearts are beating automatically..."

"Then what was it?" asked the other voice.  
"His body rejects everything we try to insert. But it won't take long. It's got to give in sooner or later."  
The Doctor tried to move but still couldn't manage to sit up. His upper part of the body was fixed to the operating table by a broad strap. His ankles and wrists were tied as well.  
He could feel the chainmail glove entering the gaping wound in his stomach. He screamed and struggled hopelessly to free himself.

"You're going to be sedated as soon as possible" the low voice tried to reassure him "but before that I have to..."  
Something seemed to move in his intestines before the chainmail glove moved it gently.  
There was a cracking noise and the Doctor let out a cry of pain as something cut through his abdominal muscles.

"I'm sorry" it seemed as if the low voice tried to sooth him "but that was necessary. You see your psoas major muscle, as well as the quadratus lumborum muscle, are both well built but they tend to get in the way when you're trying to fix the hairline cracks in your pelvis. In fact most skeletal striated muscles are. But don't worry; it will be done in a minute. Just a little adjustment on your spine and your pelvic floor..."

The Doctor gasped for air as his legs twitched uncontrollably and the shooting pain in his lumbar spinal region intensified.  
The cracking noise soon was followed by a rattling one as the chainmail glove pushed several cold metallic instruments into his flesh.  
The Doctor howled and gave a yelp, tears running down his cheeks.  
A tremor spread through his limbs, then it was over; his back felt numb.  
"There... finally..." something stroked his legs again.  
The Doctor squinted and bit his lip. He tried not to offer resistance in order to get hurt as little as possible.

There was a swoshing sound.  
The hand in the chainmail glove worked ceaselessly on his lower abdomen.  
A solid tube was forced into his anus and he felt a tepid liquid being pumped into his body, which soon filled his abdominal cavity.  
The Doctor held his breath.  
The silhouette in the back of the room had disappeared; to be more specific: it had vanished into the background.  
The Doctor could still sense someone else staring at him.  
He shivered, his lips forming the words "please" over and over again.  
He couldn't do anything apart from begging for mercy.

The hands in the chainmail gloves stroked him carefully.  
"The worst is over."  
The Doctor tried to find peace in the current silence.  
He closed his eyes again and tried to ignore the continuing twitching of the muscles in his lower abdomen as the liquid gushed out of his stomach;  
and he tried to forget about the pain in his rectum as well.

"You know" there was the low voice again, a voice he thought he remembered, if he came to think about it "A Time Lord's body is rather complex, in fact sophisticated I'd say. I'd personally call it the pride of creation, but I guess most humans would disagree with me..."  
He got patted on one leg.  
"Like I said; it takes a lot to know about it, to understand it. I'd be a layperson compared to you, presumably. And I must admit it is disgraceful to proceed such..." the remaining words of the voice were swallowed by a swoshing sound as a foaming liquid flashed through a flexible tube.  
The Doctor tried to keep his eyes open, while the growing pain seemed to drain his energy.

"...Sadly, I'd say. It's a shame. But your body refuses to carry a foetus. Therefore I'm forced to use other means. Pitiful it is, really. It's torture, that's what it is, nothing but torture. But we have to torture you in order to keep the foetus alive. Otherwise it would be cut off the blood supply soon. Your body would simply reabsorb it, trying to recover some energy from it. But we're in dire need of the child. We all are."

A long drawn-out sigh from the voice followed. The lamp above the Doctor's head still blinded him  
He saw one hand in a chain mail glove reaching for a flexible tube and removing it from the gaping wound which had been his abdominal wall till now. He forced some kind of suction pipe into the oozing wound. The Doctor flinched and clenched his fists.  
But the pain from his abdomen was not nearly as bad as the one from his anal region.

His mucous membrane of the oral cavity felt sore – he must have been intubated for quite some time.  
He swallowed and suppressed the tears once more.  
The Doctor looked down only to see the different tubes, which had been inserted in his body, protruding out of his lower abdomen. All of them...

The hand in the chain mail glove was tampering with a scalpel again, leaving micro cuts all around the open wound.  
The Doctor tried to cough; he had to suppress the pain somehow.  
The hand stopped – the Doctor felt someone staring at him.  
There was a twinge in his arm. A syringe.  
"Just a little prick, that's all" assured him the voice. He nodded devitalized.  
"You should fall asleep any minute now" the voice went on and he felt the hand in the chain mail glove touching one of his legs again and stroking them softly.  
"Soon it will be over."

The Doctor closed his eyes and felt tears running down his cheeks. They had blushed due to the embarrassment and humiliation.

There was a sound as if someone was opening a door slowly.  
"I told you to stay out of here!" shouted the smooth voice, which had been silent for quite a while.

"Doctor, what's going on? What is he doing?"  
A female voice. It was the voice of a girl; a girl he had known once.  
He struggled to open his eyes once more but his lids were already too heavy.  
He wanted to see her. He wanted to see her again to make sure that it was actually her.

The Doctor swallowed.  
"Rose..." he managed to whisper with his remaining strength "...Rose..."  
But he had already lost consciousness.

The Doctor opened his eyes again. He was back in the Tardis, lying on the floor. It seemed as if he hadn't even moved; there he was, still on the same spot.  
Automatically he pressed his hands against his stomach and held his breath immediately.  
It hurt... it hurt so much...  
He removed his shirt with care.  
Something was oozing.

His upper part of the body was mirrored in a metal ornament near the floor of the Tardis.  
They were all over his body.  
Stitches. Cuts. Seams. Metal brackets.  
As if someone had tried to staple his body together again...  
The Doctor gasped for air and stared unbelievingly at the innumerable wounds on his abdomen.

The Tardis was brightened.

There was no one else here.  
The Doctor crawled to the door of the Tardis.

It was locked. The door was locked. No one could have possibly entered the Tardis. No one could have...

He pressed a hand against his back.  
It hurt. It...

Tears were welling up in his eyes again.  
He clenched his teeth and pulled the staples out of his skin, one by one. The small wounds closed in seconds – his regenerating powers must have increased. Well, no wonder – otherwise he would have been dead for several hours, he assumed.  
The Doctor sobbed and touched his maltreated body with care. The pain increased; he rolled to one side and buried his face in his hands. He had a sore throat and was voiceless; the harsh intubations must have damaged his vocal chords.

He could think of nothing else but running; running from the Tardis; running from the past; running from his life.  
But he couldn't even move.

With his last ounce of strength he managed to get his cell phone out of his jacket.  
He called Jack.  
He couldn't think of anybody else he could have called right now.

"He...hello?" Jack's voice sounded muffled as if he hadn't lifted his head from the cushion it was currently resting on.  
The Doctor's eyes widened and the tears rushed down his cheeks.  
"Jack" he whispered unvoiced "Jack, please help me..."  
"Doctor?" mumbled Jack on the other side "Is that you? What's wrong?"  
"...Jack, please help me..."  
"I'm sorry, but I don't understand..." it sounded as if he sat up in his bed "I can hardly hear a word."  
"...please help me..." the Doctor started sobbing again.  
"Doctor, where are you? What's wrong?"  
"...please Jack..."  
"Doctor?!"  
The Doctor's voice was cracking. He started crying out loud, crouched into a corner and lay down in a curled up position.

Jack breathed in deeply.  
"I'll be there in a minute."


	6. Save me

Jack wasn't with him in a minute. Actually it took him half a minute to get out of bed, another half minute to get dress and another minute to find his vortex manipulator, which turned out to be still on his wrist.

Then he ended up in two wrong time zones and centuries before finally arriving in front of the Tardis.  
He unlocked the door and stormed in.  
The Doctor was still lying on the floor, coughing and pressing his hands against his stomach. Jack helped him to get back on his feet again and put his jacket around him.

"Please Jack" whispered the Doctor voiceless, "I need to get out of here."  
"As you wish, Doctor" replied Jack and started pressing buttons on his wrist strap again.

"Oh, no, no, no, no...!" the Doctor didn't manage to get it out properly before he was falling to the floor again, but this time in a small room which looked as it would belong to a pretty cheap apartment. Jack caught him quick-reacting.  
The Doctor breathed in deeply, hanging in Jack's arms.

"I told you I hate this bloody thing" mumbled the Doctor "It gives me a headache every single time you use it. It really makes me dizzy..."  
Jack placed the Doctor's body carefully on a bed. The Doctor managed to sit up again.

"We were in the Tardis when you used it, weren't we?" asked the Doctor irritated.  
"You told me to get you out of there" replied Jack "What's happened?"  
"You used the vortex manipulator in the Tardis? _In_ the Tardis, Jack?!"

Jack snatched his jacket from the Doctor's shoulders and gave him a blanket.  
The Doctor clinged to the only subject he was comfortable with right now:  
"My poor Tardis. Can you even imagine what you've done to her? She must be really upset now..."

"What happened?" Jack leaned against a writing desk and eyed him up cautiously.  
The Doctor sighed and snuggled into the blanket.  
"You don't want to talk about it right now" assumed Jack. The Doctor shrugged.  
"Would you care for a cup of tea?" Jack asked.

The Doctor nodded and evaded his gaze.

The tea was cold but the Doctor didn't mind it at all.  
Jack watched him carefully and sat down on a chair opposite to him.

"Jack" the Doctor put the cup down with shaking hands, "Jack I swear to you there is someone in my Tardis."  
"But that's impossible" replied Jack disbelievingly. He sat down on his bed again. "Where could they be?"  
"Anywhere" replied the Doctor "Do you think I check on every room in the morning? There are floors I haven't set foot on in years!"  
"But how should they have gotten in?" asked Jack "You never leave it unlocked."

"Somebody else must have got a key to it..." mumbled the Doctor.

Jack gave him a blank stare.  
Then he got the hint.  
He pulled a silver necklace out of his shirt and over his head. He handed it the Doctor.

"Do you think I would give it out of hand for a second?" he asked unnerved, "Don't you think I know what a privilege it is to be allowed to enter your Tardis whenever I want to?"  
"Jack, please" the Doctor sighed, "I didn't mean to offend you. It's just... don't you think that your friends in Torchwood would die for laying their hands on this item?"  
"They're doomed to die should they ever dare to lay hand on this or you, Doctor" replied Jack promptly.

The Doctor tried to smile. He felt tired.

"So... what are we going to do?" asked Jack, "You know... I could scan for alien tech in your Tardis. Or something like that. I don't know."  
The Doctor sighed.  
"Jack, you're gorgeous, you're the most impressive man I've ever met and you know how much I love you, but Jack you're an idiot. You can't use your device to locate alien traces inside of the Tardis; the Tardis is as alien as I am. Do you know what would happen?"  
The Doctor stared at him with a penetrating gaze, which would probably have been arousing under different circumstances.

"I assume that you believe that I don't want to know" replied Jack after observing the Doctor's face for a few minutes quietly.  
"Exactly. Could harm the Tardis seriously. And I don't think she would let you enter ever again."

Jack smirked. It was one of those smirks the Doctor hated. He handed Jack the cup.  
"Do something useful and make me some tea" he snarled. Jack left the room, still chuckling.

"Why do humans always have to be so disgusting?" shouted the Doctor and made sure that Jack was still within hearing range,  
"What is it with you? How can you make a smutty remark about my Tardis? My Tardis, Jack! That's just... revolting!"

The Doctor pressed his hands against his pelvis.  
He couldn't bare the pain any longer. He just couldn't.  
It seemed as if his body wasn't able to regenerate fast enough.  
Or something was blocking it...  
He sat up straight again and stretched carefully.  
Something was preventing him from repairing himself. Something suppressed the natural healing mechanism...

Jack entered the room again "Oh, Doctor you don't have to sit up straight, just lay down, you can have my bed; just make yourself comfortable, you know, curled up into a foetal position..."  
The Doctor turned pale suddenly and his eyes widened.  
Foetal...  
Foetus...

He turned around and gasped. Jack stroked his back carefully.  
"Doctor? Is everything alright?"

"Yes Jack, don't worry, everything's alright but I'm afraid I'm about to throw up..." he mumbled and stormed out of the room.

And suddenly he knew what was suppressing his immune defence and preventing him from healing himself.  
Foetus. _He_ had kept talking about a foetus.  
He was carrying a...

The Doctor had collapsed in front of Jack's basin after puking out what felt like his guts; he had to admit that he wouldn't have been irritated at least a bit if he had managed to do so now; after all a mad man had been fiddling around with his intestines.

Jack picked him up and dragged him into the shower with care.  
"You really should have told me that you weren't feeling well..." He tried to pull the Doctor's shirt over his head and supported him while standing in the shower. The Doctor refused to let himself get touched by Jack.  
The Doctor turned on the tap; Jack watched him sighing while he got soaked to the bones; his clothes adhered to his skin.  
"I guess Time Lords are different" mumbled Jack, "it's not only the thing with the two hearts or the complicated mind. You never told me that Time Lords take a shower while keeping their clothes on."  
"Shut up" hissed the Doctor and pressed his hands against his chest, "My clothes are covered in vomit anyway?"

Jack eyed him up eagerly. Something wasn't right. Something was terribly wrong about this.  
"I don't mind you staying with me" Jack tried to pick up the conversation once more "I guess there's enough room for both of us."  
The Doctor nodded absent-mindedly.  
Warm dense fog filled the room slowly. The Doctor pressed his back against a cold and tilled wall, folding his arms in front of his chest.

Jack took off his shirt, but didn't bother removing the rest of his clothes before stepping into the shower as well.  
The Doctor seemed uneasy. He assumed that, if he didn't want to be naked himself he might as well feel unsure about Jack being naked as well.

The Doctor tried to resist his touch at first, but Jack managed to get behind him and embraced him.  
The Doctor sighed, turning his head over one shoulder and snuggled up to Jack, pressing his cheeks against his.  
Jack intensified his grip and nibbled on his ear.

"We're still in Torchwood, are we?" asked the Doctor after a while.  
Jack nodded behind him and pressed his forehead against the Doctor's neck.  
"So... you live here?" assumed the Doctor. Jack rubbed his wet hair against his neck again.  
"Can't afford an apartment, I suppose" smiled the Doctor.  
"I'm here because work never ends" explained Jack "as long as there are aliens out there... as long as people are threatened... someone has to watch over them, you know. Even at night. I barely sleep. I work, Doctor. I work really hard."  
The Doctor turned around to face Jack.  
Now he was smirking.

"So you CAN'T afford an apartment, then" chuckled the Doctor. Jack sighed and kissed his neck and shoulders. He was relieved to hear the Doctor laughing again.  
He had him really worried... calling in the middle of the night... mumbling something about not being alone in the Tardis... asking him for help... _him_ for help!  
The Doctor had always been the one who knew what had to be done.  
How could he ask him for help?  
Following his guts, Jack suspected nothing but the worst.

"Are you willing to talk to me now about what happened?" asked Jack bluntly.  
The Doctor freed himself from his grip.  
"I'm tired Jack" mumbled the Doctor and tried to get out of the shower. He tried to evade Jack's questions; and Jack himself as well.  
"You can sleep in my bed if you want to" replied Jack and turned off the tap "as long as you can get comfortable there."

As long as it's no operating table and there's a surgeon around I can get comfortable everywhere, thought the Doctor.  
He felt terrible. His stomach hurt. His body hurt. And it felt as something inside of him was moving...

He collapsed onto the bed and gasped for air. Extrasystoles. He'd had extrasystoles. Again.  
Nothing ever before had caused his hearts to skip a beat.  
Something terrible must have happened.  
Something must...

He groaned and curled up, hiding his face in a cushion.  
It was getting harder to breathe for him every minute. Something tried to change him from within. Something within changed.  
His intestines felt as if they tried to rearrange themselves. He sobbed into the cushion and dug his nails into the sheets.  
As soon as Jack entered the room the Doctor ordered him to leave.

He wanted to see no one.  
He wanted to be alone.  
He gasped for air, pressed his hands against his abdomen and tried not to scream.

He felt like dying.


	7. Crying Shame

"Doctor?"  
The Doctor didn't move.  
"Is everything alright then?" Jack lay beside the Doctor and fondled him with care.  
The Doctor turned his aside. His throat felt sore, his back hurt and he had hoped he'd never have woken up ever again. Or at least, that if he was doomed to wake, that it wouldn't be as painful as it was right now.

"Please Doctor" Jack snuggled up to him and stroked him tenderly "Tell me what's happened."  
"Nothing happened" replied the Doctor voiceless. It was still dark. It must still be night, he mused.  
"What's happened in your Tardis?" asked Jack and searched his gaze irritated "you said that there had been someone else. Who did you see? What did you...?"  
"Jack" the Doctor cut him off hoarsely "please. I'm tired. And I don't want to talk about it. I'm not feeling well. Please, let me have a good night's rest. We shall see to it all tomorrow, alright? You can have a look at the Tardis, you can do whatever you consider necessary, but please Jack..." tears welled up in the Doctors eyes as he pressed his face against the face of his friend "Please let me sleep."

Jack nodded and caressed the Doctor's bruised body until he had made sure that he was fast asleep again. He had dared to take a look at the Doctor while he had been asleep. Now he felt assured that he never should have done it.  
The Doctor's body looked as if he'd been tortured cruelly. Someone must have performed the most atrocious acts on him.  
Jack felt horrible because he knew that there was nothing he could do.  
The Doctor refused to talk to him about it. And he regenerated and healed his own wounds slowly. Very slowly, in fact...

Jack rested his head on the Doctor's shoulder. He should have stayed; he reproached himself over and over again.  
He should have stayed; and possibly even given him the ring.  
He never should have left the Doctor's side. He shouldn't have left him afterwards, after the act of sex; he knew the Doctor was always weak and vulnerable after he was finished with him; sex was something to drain a Time Lord's powers, assumed Jack.

Jack rubbed his face against the soft but bruised skin on the Doctor's chest. He kissed him fondly and fell asleep while blaming himself for the Doctor's injuries again and again.

* * *

The Doctor waited in front of the Tardis. He'd refused to get back in there; and he wasn't even willing to do so while being accompanied by Jack. He simply didn't want to. And Jack couldn't convince him to change his mind. The Doctor leaned against the Tardis stubbornly.

"Found anything so far?" he shouted through the open door.  
"I've just reached the third floor" Jack's distant reply sounded muffled.  
"Just wait till you get to the basement" yelled the Doctor and sighed.  
It was stupid. He knew it was stupid. There couldn't be anyone in his Tardis. There simply couldn't be! And he couldn't remember having an operating table...  
He breathed in deeply and tried to relax.

It would have been a massive understatement to say that the Doctor didn't feel comfortable.  
The only thing he kept wondering about right now was why he hadn't started running yet.  
He had to get away. He felt it.  
He had to get out of here.

"I'm in the basement now" there was a hollow whisper from deep down below.  
"There are still two subbasements" replied the Doctor and folded his arms.  
What's taking Jack so long? , he asked himself. Why can't he just return? He won't find anything anyway.  
There was nobody inside of the Tardis.  
And he tried to deny the fact that there had been anyone inside with him.  
Who had forced him down onto the floor. Who had touched him...

"I'm afraid there's nothing inside" Jack arrived at the main floor of the Tardis again.  
The Doctor shrugged."I told you so" he mumbled, intensifying his grip on his own elbows.  
He felt weak. He felt horrible.  
And he felt like he would never enter the Tardis ever again.  
He just couldn't... he just couldn't think about it anymore.

"Well, of course there's a lot of unnecessary gimmick inside, and innumerable books and..." Jack went on but got cut off by the Doctor.  
"Jack" he managed to get out in a low voice; the Doctor was holding back his tears constantly "Jack there _was_ someone in my Tardis. And I don't want to talk about what happened, and I don't want you to question me about it and it won't do you any good to ask questions at all. I'm telling you all I can..." His voice cracked and he continued a trifle quieter "And I just want you to be close to me."  
He sobbed and wiped away the tears, staring at his feet shamefaced.

Jack watched him with unbelieving eyes. Then he wrapped his arms around him and held him tight.

"You're safe now" Jack tried to appease him.  
"No, I'm not" sniffed the Doctor "there had been someone in my Tardis. Someone had entered the Tardis, Jack! Someone had managed to get in. I don't know how and I don't know why..." his voice trailed off again.  
"Nothing's gonna harm you" Jack remained calm; his voice was soothing "and I'm gonna look after you. No one's gonna hurt you ever again."

The Doctor burst into tears and pressed his face against Jack's chest.

"I can't tell you, Jack" he managed to get out while crying "I just can't..."  
"I don't expect it from you" reassured him Jack "and you don't have to worry about that. I'm not going to ask you anything. I'm not waiting for you to talk about it. We'll simply do it your way, alright? You know what's best for yourself..."

Dying, came to the Doctor's mind at first, and start running and never stop.

"You can stay with me as long as you want to" repeated Jack, and said it as persuading as he'd said it the night before "I never mind having you around."

The Doctor nodded silently. He sniffed and locked up the Tardis, before making it invincible.  
"You don't mind it standing around here, near Torchwood?" asked the Doctor and wiped his face.  
Jack shook his head promptly. "As long as no one's gonna bump their nose on it..."  
"It doesn't work like this" replied the Doctor quietly and tried to smile.

He had a hard time smiling. It hurt. Everything on his body seemed to hurt. His skin felt as if someone had peeled it off the flesh and stapled it back to his body with the wrong side up.  
It tingled all over.

Jack guided the Doctor back into the small side room, next door to his office.  
The Doctor didn't look well at all.  
In fact he looked as if he'd collapse any minute now.

Jack fluffed up his pillow. The Doctor sat down on the side of a bed and pressed his hands against his stomach.  
His skin had healed quickly. But his internal organs still seemed to be arranged incorrectly. It felt as if someone had tried to push his stomach deeper into his ribcage. And he wasn't convinced that he hadn't been eviscerated either.

Jack took a quick glance at him out of the corner of his eyes. The Doctor lay down immediately.

Jack sighed and clapped his hands together. "I guess you'd like to have some rest then..." he mumbled and walked towards the door.

"Jack."

The Doctor's frightened whispering of his name caused the blood in his veins to freeze.  
He turned around to face him; he was startled at the helplessness conveyed by his voice.  
He moved to the Doctor's side quickly and grasped his hands. His eyes met the tired eyes of the Time Lord instantly.

He sat down on the side of the bed.

"Jack" the Doctor tried to speak quietly in order not to cry out loud; his eyes gazed into Jack's hopelessly "Jack, tell me that everything's gonna be fine. Tell me that it's over, Jack! Please Jack, make me believe in your words and tell me that it's over! Please, tell me that it's over."

Jack was too shocked about the black despair of the Doctor to reply.

And the Doctor started crying as Jack embraced him quietly.

He couldn't manage to lie to him.

And the Doctor knew that it had only just begun...


	8. I belong to you

Jack watched the Doctor sleeping beside him quietly while paying not as much attention to his paperwork as he probably should have.  
Later on he'd definitely regret it, when he'd realize that thereby he'd overlooked important indications on sightings of aliens.

But the Doctor was more important.

If he wouldn't get better soon...

Jack had moved the bed from the other room into his office. He wanted the Doctor to be near him. All the time.

Jack was becoming paranoid. The Doctor's words had scared him nearly to death.  
He wouldn't have been able to sit still in his room knowing that his lover was in the room next to him but all alone. His office was small and the walkable space on the floor had at least decreased by a third. But he didn't care. He wanted the Doctor to be safe. And bloody hell, he was gonna make sure that the Doctor was safe.

The Doctor turned over in his sleep. Jack hadn't seen him asleep in years. Actually, before he had started this sexual partnership, or concubinage (he didn't know how to describe it properly) he'd never seen the Doctor sleeping. And the Doctor had told him that he never slept.

Well, that sure changed after the first time they had had sex.

Jack smirked. Back then the Doctor had been exhausted. He'd been on the end of his tether and hadn't moved from Jack's side, although he had felt ashamed of himself, simply because he hadn't been able to move. And, like he'd already assumed, sex was one way of weakening a Time Lord.

And the Doctor hadn't been able to sit and walk properly for days...

Jack sighed; his gaze drifted towards the Doctor again.  
He just wanted to protect him. He wanted him to be safe.  
He didn't want him to get hurt by anyone. He didn't want anybody to come near him.  
He _had_ to protect him.

The Doctor mumbled something in his sleep and pushed the pillow out of his bed.  
Jack sighed, arose and picked it up. But there was no use in returning it or trying to place the Doctor's head on top of it again. The Doctor shoved the pillow away as soon as he'd felt it.  
So Jack let it be.  
He eyed up the Doctor closely.

The Doctor looked seedy. He looked broken. He looked bruised. But still... he was beautiful.  
Jack smiled and poked the pillow absent-mindedly. He was so beautiful.

Jack locked the door. The Doctor needed rest. And he wasn't going to let anyone disturb him.

Jack sat down behind his desk and tried to focus on work again, though his gaze wouldn't stop trying to reach for the Doctor's adorable natural complexion, his soft skin, his beautiful face and...  
Jack leaned back. He couldn't help staring at him. He just couldn't take his eyes off him.

And the Doctor looked so cute. The way he had snuggled up and curled up in a foetal position.  
He looked so...  
Jack sighed and tried to hold back his erection.  
For the first time in his life he felt that touching himself right now would be really inappropriate. Of course a normal human from the fifty-first century wouldn't have understood the meaning of "touching yourself inappropriately". There was nothing inappropriate about the venereal desires or the sex drive of a human being, Jack assumed. Although the Doctor preferred to call his sexual urge satyriasis.  
But he took that as quite a compliment.

But the Doctor was asleep now. Jack never would have guessed that the Doctor could be a sound sleeper.  
But the Doctor looked emaciated and tired even in his sleep.

Jack had placed the pillow in his lap and seemed to lose control over his body. He couldn't keep his hands from reaching for his crotch; he unzipped his pants automatically and started touching his member carefully whilst staring at the Doctor.  
He was very grateful that the Doctor always intended to sleep with nothing on but his shorts and an old shirt of Jack, which was certainly too big for him. But Jack didn't mind it; it tended to slide up while he tossed and turned in his sleep.

Jack closed his eyes and moaned silently. Somehow it felt good to watch the Doctor while pleasing himself. And somehow it felt horribly wrong.

In Jack's eyes nothing that had to do with lust and sexual desires was wrong. It simply had to be.  
In his eyes everyone had urges and everyone was looking for a way to satisfy them.  
And then he'd met the Doctor.

Jack smirked and couldn't take his eyes off the Doctor while he rolled over on his stomach. His shorts had slid down a bit and Jack could see even more soft skin of the Doctor, especially on the preferred parts on his body. He loved his bum.  
He could never resist touching his buttocks whenever the Doctor was around. Although the Doctor was skinny-built he had a nice and somehow inviting backside. At least to Jack it seemed inviting and he had always trouble struggling for control and NOT pushing his hard limb between the Doctor's legs and penetrate him mercilessly.

When he had met the Doctor for the first time he'd met a being without any kind of urges. He hadn't had any sexual desires or libidinal needs. Yearning and desire had been foreign words to him.  
Jack had realized that all he had to do was to loosen the uptight Doctor. Metaphorically because he had to teach him that experiencing pleasure was totally normal; and physically because, well... He was uptight. REALLY uptight. The Doctor hadn't had sex in his entire life before. Or his corporality changed during every regeneration. Jack didn't know.  
And he hadn't tried it with the first Doctor he'd met; by the time he had convinced him that gaining experience was never a bad idea, even when you had to take your clothes off and let another man enter your body, he'd already regenerated.

Jack grabbed the pillow with one hand, the other one wouldn't stop stroking his member rhythmically, and placed it on the desk in front of him. Then he buried his face in the pillow and moaned with pleasure until he had to raise his head while gasping for air.  
He couldn't be silent but he hoped that the cushion in front of him would cushion his constant groaning.

Besides silently masturbating while lying beside your sleeping lover what was the purpose of having a cushion in your bed anyway?

Jack stared at the sleeping Doctor and got consumed by the desire to force himself into him. For a moment he didn't care whether the Doctor liked it or not, whether he'd experience pain or fear and whether he'd want to have sex with him or not.

It was something about the Doctor that made Jack lose control of himself. Something about the Doctor made it impossible for him to suppress his urges. As if his body was inviting him to take advantage of him. As if the Doctor WANTED to be abused.  
And he guessed he wasn't the only one who could sense this...  
Jack wondered why the Doctor didn't get raped more often.

Jack sighed and shifted uneasy while sitting behind his desk.  
He knew it was a horrible thing to think about. He knew it was wrong! There was nothing stimulating about thinking about the Doctor getting raped. But he couldn't control himself as long as he was masturbating. Nothing sounded bad to him as long as he was in dire need of satisfaction. And when he was horny he seemed attracted to nearly everything. Almost everything... sometimes even fruits...

Jack breathed through his mouth and tried to hold his breath. He didn't want to disturb the Doctor; and under no circumstances he wanted the Doctor to wake up right now. But with every moment the pressure between his legs was increasing and he felt that he couldn't hold back any longer.

Jack spat on his hands in order to make his movements smoother. Though he knew it was usually the girls that got wet when being sexually stimulated, he had to admit that the Doctor made him wet. Jack rubbed his member restlessly. He didn't know if there was anything wrong with being sexually attracted to a Time Lord. And he assumed that there was probably a law against it. But he couldn't help it. As soon as he caught a glimpse of the Doctor he felt the blood rush down into his pelvic area and was forced to deal with the increasing throbbing of his cock. He gasped for air and watched the Doctor turn over again. He couldn't help it. He had to please himself.  
That was the only way of preventing the Doctor from getting penetrated at least three times a day. And he knew that once a week was more than sufficient for the Doctor.

The Doctor opened his eyes slowly and looked around tiredly. He ran his hands over his up till now bruised skin. The bruises had disappeared and the swelling had gone down. He must have managed to heal himself properly.  
The Doctor touched his pelvic area with care, which made it even harder for Jack to hold back. But the Doctor needed to make sure that his pelvis was back to normal again. Only his back hurt a little, and the Doctor closed his eyes while thinking of the mortising machine which must have milled off several inches of his lumbar vertebras.  
No, he told himself, he should stop thinking about it. He pretended it never happened.  
Jack's bed wasn't very comfortable, that was all.

The Doctor opened his eyes again and stared at Jack, who grabbed the pillow in front of him and let it disappear behind his desk.

The Doctor greeted him with a tired smile. "Morning Jack" he whispered slinky and chuckled.  
That was all he'd needed; Jack shivered and ejaculated on the cushion, which was now resting on his knees, while holding his breath.  
Then he stared at the Doctor and tried to calm down.

"Is everything alright?" asked the Doctor and rolled on his back. Jack nodded embarrassed and coughed.  
The Doctor stood up slowly and walked towards Jack.

"You're not looking good" explained the Doctor and leaned over his desk while pressing his soft thighs against it; he met his gaze face to face and pressed his forehead against Jack's. Jack didn't dare to move although he had really wanted to get himself dressed properly again before the Doctor would notice.  
The Doctor gave him a scrutinizing look, pressed his right hand against Jack's forehead and touched his face carefully.  
"You're burning" mumbled the Doctor "You seem feverish..."  
The Doctor's gaze had drifted downwards slowly and he had realized the cause of Jack's high body temperature.  
Jack evaded his look and pulled his pants upwards again while throwing the pillow to the floor.  
The Doctor shook his head.

"Captain Jack Harkness, you are an idiot" he mumbled. Jack sighed and arose coughing.  
"You really are desperate" the Doctor went on "And remind me about this every time I want to care about you: I certainly shouldn't."

The Doctor knelt down and started pushing on the bed in front of him. "Doctor, what are you doing?" Jack asked irritated and came closer.  
"If you don't mind I'd prefer sleeping next door" replied the Doctor.  
Jack pulled him to his feet.  
"Please Doctor" mumbled Jack while having difficulties finding the right words "Just stay here. I won't do that again, I promise. I didn't mean to..."  
"It's not because you've been masturbating while staring at me sleeping" replied the Doctor unnerved, "I'm convinced that you're doing this every night. No Jack, I don't want to disturb you. I know that I'm a distraction to you. You can't concentrate properly as long as I'm near you. And, like you told me, you've got a job to do, and I don't want to distract you. That's all. Now would you be so kind as to give me a hand?"

Their eyes met and Jack started laughing before the Doctor could even roll his eyes.

"You've got a one-track mind" mumbled the Doctor and shook his head.  
"But seriously Jack, it's not gonna work like this. This room is simply too small, even for one of us. You can't actually live here."  
"You're spoiled because you've got your Tardis" replied Jack "normal human beings are used to live in a tight space."  
"You're just telling me this because you like saying "tight"" grumbled the Doctor and sat down on his bed as Jack was still unwilling to help him pushing it across the room.

"No, I mean it" Jack went on "It's normal that lover's are crowding each other. And there's enough room to squeeze you in, Doctor." Jack's perverted smile caused the Doctor to bury his face in his hands.  
"Can't you explain anything without making a smut remark?" he asked. Jack knelt on top of the Doctor and pushed him back into bed.  
"You don't even want to know what I'd like to squeeze into you, Doctor" whispered Jack and caressed his neck.  
"You're not horny again, are you?" asked the Doctor.  
"I'm always horny" replied Jack and smirked.

The Doctor rested his head on Jack's chest. One heartbeat. He tended to forget about it. Just one heart beating in Jack's chest. Jack was fast asleep; the Doctor envied him for being able to rest quietly on the bed. He could never stop rolling around and tossing and turning. Maybe it was just his urge to run. He couldn't stop moving, not even in his sleep.

The Doctor had to agree that Jack was the best thing that'd ever happened to him. He couldn't remember feeling saver beside anybody else. Jack was there for him.  
As long as he had had companions he had been forced to look after them. Now Jack was there to look after him. The Doctor knew how much Jack cared for him.

He'd seen the small box, which rested beside Jack's bed on a small bedside table, many times before. Of course he was curious about what was inside of it, but he would never have dared to touch Jack's things without his permission.  
Alright, not all things.  
But the box looked as if it would mean a lot to Jack. He figured, due to the shape and the size, that it was a jewel box. The Doctor assumed that its content was important to Jack, because he hid the box every morning before the Doctor would get up, and assumed that it was a gift from someone he'd loved.

The Doctor sighed. He was sleepy. He was in dire need for a rest.  
He closed his eyes.  
Jack was there for him. Jack wouldn't leave him alone. Jack was always around him. Jack...

The Doctor tried to lift his heavy lids instantly as he felt that someone had grabbed him around the waist.  
"Jack, what are you doing?" he mumbled quietly and tried to raise his head.  
He was too tired to move and too weakened to scream. Even his scared "NO!" was barely audible. Someone dragged him out of the room slowly...

"Jack? Jack open up already!"  
The loud knock on his door nearly caused Jack to jump out of his bed. Jack touched the empty but still warm spot beside him on the bed.  
He looked around in panic.  
"Where is he?" he shouted.  
"Jack, let me in" yelled Gwen from the outside "We need to talk..."  
"Where did he go?" Jack got to his feet quickly and whipped his face.

"Jack, this is Martha speaking. The Tardis has left Torchwood," Jack heard footsteps coming closer to his door  
"He's left Torchwood, Jack. The Doctor's gone."  
"When did he leave? He wouldn't leave without telling me!" Jack unlocked the door and pushed it open to stare into the two women's irritated faces.

Martha found the right words first and explained uneasily: "We think he was forced to leave..."


	9. Cave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of gore and some more disturbing experiences...

There was a sound from above, as if constant rain was falling down onto a skylight window, as he woke up.  
Slowly, the Doctor lifted his head.  
The air was damp and smelled mouldy, just the way it smells in an old room you havn't set foot in because you had locked it years ago and totally forgot about its existence.  
Or like an empty birdcage that hasn't been inhabited for centuries; even if it was clean you came to notice that it smelled of wild animals.  
And there was a slight beastly scent in this room as well.

The Doctor lay on a stone floor. Music was playing quietly over a few loudspeakers near the ceiling.  
They looked dusty and somehow clotty. The music was barely audible. It was meditative.  
But it was forcing its way into the Doctors brain, calming him, even though he knew that he should trust his instincts and find a way out of this strange room as soon as possible.

The sound from above became louder. The Doctor looked up and saw the thin rain drumming gently on the glass of the misty windows.  
The room he was currently trapped in (he figured out that he was kept imprisoned after banging his palms against the solid dark walls a few times) didn't seem that bad. In fact there was nothing he should be worried about, he found himself thinking for a moment.

But that _was_ something to be worried about.  
Something tried to calm him. And he assumed that it was for one reason only: something much worse was going to happen soon.

The Doctor's hands slipped into his own shirt and he found himself searching his bruised skin for new injuries or incisions. But he hadn't been touched, he figured, because there were no wounds. In fact it seemed as if the old ones had already healed up as well.

Only his stomach felt hard and slightly swollen.

The Doctor's fingers froze and he turned his head aside in disgust.  
He felt something.

Nauseated he pulled his hands away and lay down on the floor again, curling up into a tight ball.  
He had felt something. There was something inside of him.  
The Doctor took a deep breath and touched his lower abdomen cautiously; he feared the worst.

There it was. He'd felt a kick.  
He closed his eyes and pressed the hand against his lower abdomen.

A kick. He had felt a kick.

It felt revolting, it felt terrible and it felt unbelievably wrong.  
But the Doctor couldn't deny it.  
And it dawned on him.

He had been kidnapped and injured and tortured for one reason only: Someone had chosen him to carry their child. He had been impregnated days ago; probably even weeks ago; the Doctor had lost track of time.  
He had been fecundated; either by getting raped or by the strange operation which had been performed on him while he had been half asleep; he figured it'd been some kind of artificial insemination.  
And now the Doctor was forced to carry a baby.

The Doctor rolled over to one side and spat out curses in the language of his home-planet while smashing his knuckles against the stone floor.  
It was too horrible to be true! He couldn't be pregnant! He simply couldn't!

The Doctor let out a cry of despair and arose, bashing against the solid dark walls in desperation. It was of no use. No matter how many times he tried, the wall wouldn't budge, it wouldn't break or crack. He wasn't even able to knock out parts of the surface. He couldn't scratch it – it felt like plastic. But it wouldn't move. It didn't seem to be easily destroyed.

The Doctor crouched into a corner and pressed his back against solid stony wall, facing the dark wall beside him tiredly. He could see his own reflection (supposing that the wall had to be laminated somehow). The Doctor felt his own reflection staring back at him with bloodshot and weary eyes. And with the small bulge, which had used to be his stomach until recently, he looked even more disgusting than ever before. He stared himself in the eye, his gaze drifting slightly downward, running over his skinny, long and thin body; he could see his ribs, at least nearly, he could see every muscle even through his garments. And then...

There it was. His stomach. His revolting, swollen and hard stomach.  
He stared at his own reflection in horror. His slim, filigree and thin body disfigured by his arching abdomen.

And he could feel _it_.  
He felt it every minute, every moment; _it_ , inside of him, annoying and disturbing him with _its_ two additional heartbeats.  
His body had already started to expand around the lately inserted foetus. The bulge must have been growing over the past few weeks without him even noticing it. And it evolved fast – it seemed to grow faster than it actually should.  
The Doctor didn't dare to touch his disgusting body again and turned his head aside thus being unable to take a look at his distorted abdomen once and for all.

The constant crackling and pelting from the rain above drowned out the noises from the outside.  
But there were sounds on the other side of the wall. The Doctor pressed his head against the cold thought-to-be plastic and listened carefully.  
Dull thuds and noises were fading in the distance; a muffled voice spoke in a language he couldn't quite understand.  
He sat up.

There was someone outside; the Doctor could feel someone staring at him. Someone was observing him; someone was waiting outside, waiting for the right moment...

The Doctor noticed right now that the music, which had descended over the loudspeakers, had stopped. It must have stopped minutes ago. The sounds from the other side grew nearer and louder, different voices muttering quietly; innumerable footsteps indicated several beings approaching.  
And all of a sudden the sounds died away.

The dark wall vanished and a corridor appeared in front of the Doctor as it got illuminated. Several people stood in front of the Doctor, observing him through a Plexiglas pane.

"Please take a step back." "Don't scare it." "What's it doing?" "Be quiet."

The Doctor searched the observers' faces irritated and looked around panic-stricken. He arose quietly and stepped away from the pane in front of him.  
The muffled voices continued talking fast and at once, leaving the Doctor confused and with nothing but isolated scraps of conversation.

"What is it?" "Something new, I heard." "It doesn't look interesting." "What is it doing?"

A small, mirror inverted sign was glued to the pane on the outside. "Please be quiet" it said on it.  
The Doctor looked back and forth between the observers and the sign.

The sound of music, accompanied by a raspy voice, snarled on the other side and spread over the dimly lit room in front of him over loudspeakers. The observers closed ranks and became quiet.

"...this species could be discovered in nearly every century for the past three thousand years; though records show that those specimen seem to travel alone, or at rare occasions, are accompanied, but by other species only; two of that kind have never been sighted together. It is therefore assumed that the species you're looking at right now is a dying breed, and it is possible that what you are staring at is the last of its kind. As already mentioned, what we have here is a travelling species, known to be capable of travelling through time and space."

The voice became silent while innumerable faces eyed the Doctor up closely. Several people were leaning against the wall, smiling, talking, pointing and doing what every average visitor of a zoo does.  
The Doctor was locked in a closure. Irritated as he was he crawled back into the corner that seemed the furthest away and pressed his back against the wall, surveying at his prison with unbelieving eyes.

The Doctor was locked up like an animal. To those who had kidnapped and caged him he _was_ an animal. Or an alien. Or a beast.  
He ran his fingers through his hair. His heart rates increased – as well as the heart rates of the foetus inside of his lower abdomen.  
He clenched a fist and punched the bulge on his body once or twice before curling up and whimpering in pain.  
There was no sense in hurting himself, the Doctor figured. If he dared to hurt the foetus he'd only hurt himself.

"Even if the creature seems confused or unsettled right now there's no need to worry. Usually caged creatures need at least two weeks to get adjusted to the new environment and we'd like to give it the time it needs to settle down. Our new closures are a significant innovation; not only that they're an exact copy of the natural habitat of the creatures, by means of the Plexiglas we can provide useful insights, granting the observers the privilege to take a look at a creature they'd probably never set eyes on in the wild. The enclosure is the ideal way of presenting a creature to the public; it reflects the natural as well as the scientific aspects. The creature is monitored outside the opening hours and watched over around the clock by specifically trained personnel."

The Doctor buried his face in his hands and pressed his body against the wall restlessly, helplessly trying to escape the spectator's view.  
He told himself over and over that it was all a dream, that it couldn't be real because simply was too horrible to be real.

The people outside kept talking, footsteps neared and edged away; the Doctor felt countless eyes staring at his back. He sobbed as the tears started burning in his eyes. He had a hard time moving his pelvis as close as possible towards his chest – his swollen stomach got in the way. The Doctor knelt on the floor, his upper part of the body collapsed and he pressed his face against the cold stone floor.

The crowd dispersed, the enclosure of the Doctor was now brightly lit and the voice over the loudspeakers was fading.

"...whenever possible...and of course we're looking forward to the creature to become part of our research program. After all a dying breed needs to be observed and documented in the most accurate way. It's possible that we're lucky to have the last of its kind and we are really looking forward to have it as a part of our captive breeding program, as well. We're really looking forward to investigate further details of the natural behaviour of..."

The bright light above the Doctor blinded him as he tried to squint. The voice had died away and he rolled on to his stomach, in order to protect his eyes against the unnatural and burning light.

"The sedative effect is wearing off."  
The Doctor couldn't raise his head due to the pain that had struck his whole body seconds ago. He shivered all over.  
"He's going to wake up soon." A familiar voice emerged from beside the Doctor's head; he was too weak to open his eyes and replied with a soft moan.  
"He _is_ waking up" corrected another voice "Let's get it over with."

A sharp pain seared through the Doctor as he screamed and he felt several metal instruments being forced into his abdomen as well as his chest.  
Someone patted him on the hand and whispered "Soon it's over... soon you're..."

The Doctor cut off the voice by panting and screaming like mad.  
But he came to notice that it became darker around him and though he kept on screaming and shouting he didn't feel any pain anymore.  
He didn't feel anything.

Except for collapsing onto the floor and getting dragged out again...

"Doctor?"

The Doctor opened his eyes slowly. Jack knelt beside him and stroked his temples carefully.  
The Doctor let out a long drawn-out moan and tried to sit up. Jack pressed his hand against the Doctor's chest carefully, hindering him from arising. The Doctor flinched.  
"You're too weak" whispered Jack and caressed his cheeks. The Doctor pressed a hand against his chest, palpating his skin and searching for the stitched wounds he knew he'd discover.

"I'm sorry" whispered Jack after taking a quick glance at his fingers; they were smeared with blood, he'd touched the Doctor's chest carelessly causing one of the wounds to burst at the seams.  
The Doctor closed his eyes. The warm blood which emerged from the wound warmed up his maltreated and cold body.

"Doctor" Jack's pleading voice caused the Doctor to burst into tears. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed heart wrenching.  
Jack grasped the Doctor's hands and squeezed them gently. He looked the crying Doctor deeply in the eye and felt the tears welling up in his eyes as well.  
"Doctor you need help."

* * *


	10. Endlessly

The Doctor rested on his thought-to-be chair in his library, thumbing through innumerable books and scripts which had been scattered all over the floor.  
If you hadn't known that the Doctor's library was supposed to be a mess you would have suspected that several small explosive devices had detonated and had not only destroyed nearly every bookcase but killed the librarian as well.

Jack was standing in the doorway, leaning against it and staring at the Doctor motionless.

"You wouldn't give me some privacy, would you?" asked the Doctor without looking up.  
He had put on his reading glasses while thumbed through a book restlessly.

"I'm not going to leave your side ever again" stated Jack coldly without taking his eyes off the Doctor. The Doctor sighed and tossed the book aside before choosing a different one from his lap and flipping it open.  
"Then the next hours are going to be pretty boring for you, I suppose," the Doctor cleared his throat and sighed quietly.

Jack didn't budge; he didn't move a muscle.

The Doctor hadn't talked to him since Jack had found him lying on the pavement above Torchwood, bleeding, irritated, hopelessly and desperate... there wasn't even a word to describe the state the Doctor had been in when he'd been discovered.

The Doctor's wounds had healed soon, simply disappearing due to his healing powers.  
The Doctor had refused to be treated by Martha. He had refused to talk to Jack about what happened and how he'd ended up in Cardiff in front of the giant sculpture in the middle of the night.

He wouldn't talk. He wouldn't reply. And most of all he didn't like being watched by Jack.

"If only you'd tell me what happened..." snarled Jack and shifted in the door.  
"If you're bored you could try reading" replied the Doctor with a lack of interest. Jack hoped that at least the Doctor himself knew what he was searching the books for.

The Doctor moaned unsatisfied while flicking through several books at a time.

"I can't because it's Gallifreyan" mumbled Jack grumpily "and I've got more important things to do."

"Then why do you keep bothering me in my Tardis?" asked the Doctor icily.  
His blunt reply hurt Jack.

"Because I don't want to leave you alone ever again, Doctor" answered Jack and folded his arms while straightening up a bit "Do you think I'm enjoying this?" "No, but neither am I," mumbled the Doctor and rolled his head into the nape of his neck, staring at the ceiling.  
"I can't leave you, Doctor," underlined Jack empathically and stepped closer towards the Doctor "not after what's happened to you!"

The Doctor breathed in deeply and let out a long drawn-out sigh whilst closing his eyes. Jack could sense his desperation.  
"Whatever it is..." Jack added quietly and folded his arms again.

"I never should have come here" the Doctor sighed and arose from his seat "I never should have come to Torchwood. This wouldn't have happened if I had stayed in my Tardis. No, I should have stayed in my Tardis and never, never ever return to you, Jack. And I never should have given you a key to the Tardis."  
Jack looked aside and bit down on his lower lip.

He took a deep breath and tried to convince himself that the Doctor only intended to hurt his feelings because he had been hurt himself by whomsoever.

"Sorry" added the Doctor quietly. He buried his face in his hands before running his fingers through his hair once or twice. He evaded Jack's stare the same way Jack daren't meet the Doctor's glare.  
The silence between them was driving Jack insane.

"Martha told me that you were forced to leave" snapped Jack. The Doctor stared at him starry-eyed and in silence. Jack grasped the Doctors shoulders and searched his gaze.  
"Doctor, we need to talk about this. I can't keep on playing your little games, pretending that I don't care, pretending that I'm not worried about you."  
The Doctor breathed in deeply and growled. "Here we go again" he grumbled "Humans and their thought-to-be undisclosed feelings."

"Doctor, I mean it" Jack couldn't think of anything beside hugging the Doctor and pressing his skinny chest against his own.  
"You've got to stop playing hard to get. I want you to tell me what has happened to you. Right now."  
The Doctor freed himself from Jack's tight grip and cocked an eyebrow at him after eyeing him up carefully.  
He folded his arms.

"And if I won't tell you?" he asked provocatively. "What will you do to me if I refuse to talk to you?"  
"Nothing, because I love you and would rather kill myself than hurt you" thought Jack to himself and bit his lip.  
There was no other opportunity but pleading and the Doctor knew it.  
"Doctor, please" Jack hissed, searching for the right words. The Doctor sat down on his fake chair again.

Silence filled the room once more. The Doctor had picked a random book which had been lying around on the floor and skimmed over the pages. Only the flickering from the lights above seemed to distract him from time to time.

"I was scared to death when I discovered your maltreated body, covered in scratches from head to toe" blurted out Jack. The Doctor didn't reply. The Tardis hummed annoyingly loud.  
"My heart stopped beating when I recovered your bruised and broken body. I held you in my arms Doctor and thought you to be dead as you lay there, lifeless and cold. I guess it was simply too much..."

The Doctor hissed through his teeth; Jack stared at his feet. He wasn't quite comfortable with opening up to the Doctor, but after the events of the past few days...  
"Good thing I can't die, eh?" added Jack quietly and tried to chuckle. The Doctor wouldn't reply this time either. There was a strange whirring and hum above his head.

Jack looked up and stared at the infinitely high bookcases before catching a glimpse of the Doctor again.  
"Is she talking to you?" asked Jack with a muffled voice. The Doctor nodded quietly and probably wasn't even listening. He heard the Tardis. But it seemed as if he refused to listen to her, either.

"Shut up" he hissed finally and arose from his seat, before pushing Jack aside and storming out of the library "And don't _you_ dare follow me!"

Jack ran after the Doctor and for the first time he was glad that the Doctor had been injured, otherwise he wouldn't have managed to catch up with him again. Jack smiled involuntarily.  
The Doctor. No... _his_ Doctor. Always running.

The Doctor rushed through a long corridor, opening several doors before smashing them angrily. Jack tried to keep a proper distance but bumped into the Doctor nonetheless when he had stopped in front of a door. The Doctor nudged Jack in the ribs, causing him to take two steps backwards.

"Why are you so complicated?" he hissed between his gritted teeth. Even here Jack could hear the strange humming of the Tardis. "Why are all women so complicated? I don't want to go back, I don't want to! All I want right now is a shower and then go back to bed."  
The Doctor sighed and shook his head before leaning it against the door.  
"Don't let me down old lady" he whispered and breathed in deeply "please."

He opened the door in front of him, shook his head in disappointment and stepped aside. The door was still ajar as the Doctor headed towards the end of the corridor. Jack stepped forward caught a glimpse of the room. It was the library. Again. It was the library the Doctor had been sitting in till now. Jack tried it himself and opened a different door. Behind it was also the library. Jack took a step back, unbelieving that he could take a look into the same room at the same angle through two different doors.

"Have a look at this, will you?" Jack heard the Doctor sighing and followed him to the newly opened door. Both of them were staring at the library, the Doctor in frustration, Jack in bewilderment.

"It's all she has in store for me" mumbled the Doctor and leaned against the doorframe with folded arms. "She won't reveal a different room."

"Why?" asked Jack who couldn't take his eyes off the library behind the door. He simply couldn't get his head around the fact that nothing in the Tardis was constant and everything could be anywhere because it hadn't a fixed spot where you could actually find it.  
He wondered if he would appear in the room in front of the Doctor if he'd enter it through a different door. But he wasn't in an adventuresome mood and figured that sooner or later he'd cause trouble and destruction in the Tardis, as always.  
He was glad that the Tardis tolerated his existence and he knew that it wouldn't get any better than that.

"She thinks I should have a look at the books," snarled the Doctor and stared at the ceiling, shouting "But I don't even know what I'm looking for!"

There was a rumble from above as if the Tardis was protesting. The Doctor snorted. "Haven't seen _it_ in years. And I won't start looking right now. I'm tired."

He slammed the door shut and leaned his back against it, still shaking his head.  
"What is she talking about?" asked Jack. The Doctor sighed and stared at him with weary eyes.

"Nothing" he replied in a huff "And it's none of your business!"

Jack sighed. He knew that the Doctor wasn't willing to talk to him. And he had been miffed for the past few days.  
"Can I come to your place?" asked the Doctor.  
Jack nodded his assent before the Doctor could continue"It's not that I want to stay with you... you know, I don't really like being in Torchwood, but as long as the Tardis is refusing to let me find a _decent room_..."  
He kicked against the wall impatiently and snorted.

Beside him a door sprung open.

"Jack, can you take a look inside?" asked the Doctor; he was unwilling to budge from his current position in case the Tardis had revealed nothing but a new way into the library. Jack nodded quietly and caught a glimpse of the room. "Looks like a bathroom... sort of..." he replied quietly.

The Doctor dashed to his side "What do you mean 'sort of'?"  
After taking a look at the bathroom he patted the door gently.  
"You're a good girl" he smiled and would have kissed the doorframe if Jack hadn't been looking.

Jack didn't quite approve of the Doctor's relationship with his Tardis, the Doctor knew. Most of all he didn't understand it. But that was fine by the Doctor.  
He couldn't explain platonic relationships to a human being from the fifty-first century.  
Alright, humans from the twenty-first century probably wouldn't have understood it either.

The Doctor stepped into the bathroom and had the door nearly closed as Jack asked "Do you mind if I stay by your side?"  
The Doctor smiled "Yes Jack, I do mind it," and slammed the door in his face.  
The door got locked from the inside and he could hear the Doctor's muffled chuckling.

Jack sighed and leaned against the door. To him, the Doctor was a mystery.

But Jack couldn't know that the only reason why the Doctor wouldn't let him stay beside him was because he wanted to spare him the sight of his injured and patched up body.


	11. Falling away with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's getting kinky again.

Jack whistled absent-mindedly the melody of a familiar song whose words he couldn't remember. He got more and more uneasy. The Doctor had been in the bathroom for...  
Jack looked down on his wrist for the third time only to find his vortex manipulator; he really should be wearing a watch instead of this thing, he thought to himself, especially if the Doctor tended to damage it every time he'd discover it on his arm.

Jack sighed. It felt like half an hour... No, it _felt_ like _hours_! And still there was no audible sign of the Doctor turning on the shower. There was no sound from the bathroom, except for the repetitive sighs and sobs of the Doctor.  
But he had refused to let Jack come in; he'd locked the door and no matter how hard Jack pushed pulled or kicked at it, it wouldn't budge. And the Doctor wouldn't reply either.

Jack knocked on the door, this time by banging his head against it. "Doctor, please let me in."

A muffled sob escaped the Doctor's mouth as he removed the last needle and pulled the remaining seams out of his chest. He now was back to normal, more or less. A few minor bruises and scars concussed the image of his light complexion and otherwise smooth skin. Only the seams on his back he hadn't been able to reach; firstly because they were placed between his shoulder blades and furthermore because his shoulders hurt so badly he didn't dare to move more than absolutely necessary.

The Doctor eyed himself up in the mirror and stared at his reflexion with blood-shot eyes. He looked nearly as miserable as he felt, he thought to himself. But he was surprised that he had managed to keep his eyes open; his lids were heavy and tended to sink every moment he wasn't paying attention.  
The Doctor sighed and removed his clothes.  
He smelled. He smelled awful. But it weren't his clothes – it was his body, his skin _stank_ , his artificial body orifices (the cuts in his flesh where the tubes had been forced in and out and probably sideways, too) and the big healing wound across his stomach reeked of rotten meat.

The Doctor turned his head aside in disgust and stepped into the shower after turning it on. He took a deep breath as the cold water trailed down his cheeks and travelled down the rest of his body. The ice-cold water seemed to freeze his brain and the Doctor moaned and opened his eyes wide in order not to scream.  
He tried to look up and stared at the ceiling with a blurred vision.  
"You don't care that I'm freezing... oh no, you _want_ me to get blasted, don't you?"  
The humming from the Tardis grew closer as the Doctor tried to overhear what she advised him to.

"I told Jack to leave. I don't want him around all the time. I don't want to see him..."  
The humming became annoyingly loud.  
"Alright, alright, I don't want _him_ to see _me_."

The Doctor listened quietly and pulled his head out of the jet of water.  
"No, he can't help me. Stop saying that. And you won't be able to convince me. I don't want to see him."  
The Doctor sighed after receiving the Tardis' discontent reply.  
"I know that he's still out there. But sooner or later he'll leave, believe me. There's definitely an alien on the run or someone claims that they've seen a flying pizza or an escaped sandwich or whatever those dilettantes are investigating in presently. I don't care."

The humming from above faded away slowly as it turned into quiet and comforting music.  
"Oh, stop that" hissed the Doctor, though he was grateful that the Tardis had decided on granting him the privilege of enjoying a hot shower.  
"That's one of Jack's favourite songs. I remember damn well how I was forced to listen to his music after he'd tied me down to my bed and wouldn't stop humping me for hours. I don't want to hear it."  
The Doctor closed the sliding door of the shower and leaned his back against the cool tilled wall. The coldness of it had a sedative effect on the stitches between and on his shoulder blades. Only his lower back hurt more the longer he pressed his injured skin against the tiles. The small of his back was killing him lately...

The Doctor winced after he had felt a kick.  
 _A kick._  
The Doctor gritted his teeth.  
The goddamn brat had dared to call his attention towards its existence inside of him.

He looked down at his slightly swollen abdomen. It was visible; the bulge was clearly visible, at least to him. The Doctor sighed and poked his stomach uneasily. He wouldn't be able to hide his pregnancy from Jack for long.  
Though the word itself felt disgusting – the Doctor felt like throwing up whenever he dared to remind himself of it.  
He had conceived. He was pregnant. He had been fecundated.  
And there were innumerable different disgusting words which came to his mind; thankfully most of them were in Gallifreyan and therefore he wouldn't understand those derogatory terms himself exactly, or recall their actual snide meaning.

He rested his head against the wall and felt tears welling up in his eyes, mixing with the hot water which had already moistened his cheeks.  
The Doctor was carrying a foetus. He had been raped and maltreated and would be coerced to carry a child to full term. And in the near future he would be giving birth to it; he would be forced to give birth to a child whose nascency and cause was still a miracle to him.

The Doctor folded his arms above his bulged abdomen and snorted.  
And even in the Tardis he wasn't safe.  
 _They_ had managed to enter the Tardis. _They_ had managed to drag him out. _They_ had managed to fly the Tardis and leave him somewhere in Cardiff where Jack could find him.  
He closed his eyes.  
Whoever _they_ were.

There was a clicking sound behind Jack's back. He turned around to find that the door had opened a slight gap. He pushed it open and entered the bathroom quietly before closing the door behind him.  
It clicked shut, leaving Jack no other opportunity but to face the Doctor.

The Doctor had slumped down and rested his back against the tilled wall, his legs were pulled up and his head had rolled into the nape of his neck. He stared at the jet of water with tired and unbelieving eyes.  
Jack opened the sliding door slowly as arising steam leapt towards him. The Doctor looked up to him wearily.  
Fully clothed Jack stepped into the shower and grabbed the Doctor's shoulders before trying to pull him into an upright position. The Doctor had wrapped his arms around his stomach and moaned while getting to his feet again. He turned his back on Jack.

"Jack, what are you doing here?" whispered the Doctor as Jack took off his shirt and threw it out of the slightly ajar sliding door before closing it abruptly.

"Doctor..." Jack had opened his mouth but hadn't thought of a reply so far. He considered himself truly fortunate because he had managed to enter the bathroom, even if only because of the Tardis' trust in him.  
"I told you I want to be alone" replied the Doctor and intensified his grip on his own skin "I don't want to see anybody."  
Jack stared aghast at the Doctor's injured back and the stitching all over his skin.  
"Why can't you just leave me alone?" sobbed the Doctor; his shoulders were twitching as he lowered his head and cried out as well in pain as in despair.

"Because I love you" was Jack's honest and naive answer as he wrapped his arms around the Doctor's chest and pulled him closer towards him. The Doctor cried and yelped heartbreakingly as Jack moved closer and rested his head on his shoulders.  
"Jack, you're an idiot" sobbed the Doctor and snivelled quietly "and you're all wet."  
The Doctor's weak and vulnerable body was leaned against Jack's strong chest and Jack felt the Doctor fainting and languishing into his arms more and more minute by minute.  
"Doctor you need help" repeated Jack and pulled the Doctor closer towards his body.  
"Just hold me, Jack" mumbled the Doctor and closed his eyes as he breathed in deeply.  
Jack nodded his assent and buried his face in the Doctor's neck whilst showering his skin with kisses.

The steamy room became quiet; only the pattering sounds from the water above them disturbed the pleasant hush. The music had faded and died away and the Doctor opened his eyes and turned his head only to catch a glimpse of Jack behind him. Jack caressed him steadily and rubbed his face against his shoulders carefully, in order not to hurt his injured skin.

"Jack?" whispered the Doctor and felt the warm water from above padding his slightly open mouth. Jack replied with a relaxed moan and pressed his cheeks against the Doctor's.  
"Jack, would you be so kind as to remove your clothes?" asked the Doctor and Jack stripped off his clothes instantly (because you don't have to tell a human being from the fifty-first century to get undressed twice) before the Doctor could have added "Your belt is poking me."

"You don't need to justify yourself" smirked Jack "you don't have to have reasons for wanting me to take my clothes off."  
A quiet chuckle escaped the Doctor's mouth before he turned around to Jack. His right hand was still pressed against the scar across his stomach, though it only covered it poorly.  
"You can wrap them in a towel in order to keep them from dripping all over the floor; there are towels in the white shelf to your right, if you step out of the shower..."  
"I can deal with my clothes later on" replied Jack and smiled as he wrapped his arms around the Doctor's back.  
"Jack, it will only take a second, just put them in..."  
"They're hopelessly soaked, Doctor" explained Jack and grasped the Doctor's hands, pulling him towards his chest again "and I don't mind it."

"Just get out of the shower for a moment, will you Jack?" sighed the Doctor and bit his lip.  
Jack eyed him up closely and searched the Doctor's cold stare; but he couldn't make rhyme nor reason of it.  
The Doctor folded his arms and stared at his feet.  
"Alright" Jack sighed "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine by me. I won't bother you with questions..."  
"I need to pee, Jack" replied the Doctor while staring at his feet "that's all."

It had been two days by now.  
Two days since the twinge had started. And still the Doctor felt like peeing all the time. His urethra was burning and felt sore, so he avoided urinating as often as possible. He assumed that he'd suffer from urethritis or some kind of renal diseases. But he didn't wonder after all those things which had been forced in and out of his urethra...  
Though he thought peeing in the shower to be something rather uncivilized and unmodest he knew that he couldn't help but accommodate the urge of urinating. The hot shower sure was relaxing and the Doctor hoped that micturating wouldn't be as painful as usual.

Jack eyed up the Doctor from head to toe. He smiled as he met his gaze.  
"That's nothing to be ashamed of" explained Jack quietly and hugged the Doctor. "I'm not ashamed" replied the Doctor while breathing in deeply.  
"Yes you are" smirked Jack "and you know that you shouldn't be ashamed. But you can't help it. And neither can you suppress the urge any longer."  
The Doctor looked at his feet again. "There's something about the way you're saying that makes me feel quite uncomfortable..." mumbled the Doctor and sighed.  
Jack chuckled and rested his head on the Doctor's shoulder.  
"I only want you to feel good about yourself no matter what" assured Jack the Doctor.  
"...no matter what kind of human being wants to watch me passing water in the shower..." added the Doctor and blushed inevitably.

"If you really want me to, I'll leave you alone" explained Jack and saw small sparks rising in the Doctor's hopeful eyes before he continued hastily "but I don't think that urinating is something to feel embarrassed about. It's totally normal, even for Time Lords I suspect and..."

"Alright, cut it out or I'm aiming at your feet" snapped the Doctor and turned towards Jack "Just stop talking about it already. I get the picture."

Jack smiled at the Doctor who kissed his cheeks and nibbled on his ear before turning his back on Jack and grabbing his own member.  
The Doctor breathed out deeply and tried to relax while releasing the pressure from his bladder. It burnt, although he was standing in the shower it burnt nonetheless, but the hot water made it a lot easier to bear.  
Jack popped his head to one side and watched the Doctor's weak urinary stream hit the tilled wall and splash across the wet floor.  
"Jack, I can feel your staring at my buttocks, stop it" hissed the Doctor.

"Is everything alright, Doctor?" asked Jack quietly and touched the Doctor's shoulders gently. The Doctor flinched and closed his eyes.  
"Yes, of course, apart from the fact that someone seems to be dying for watching me pee" replied the Doctor between gritted teeth and snorted. One of Jack's hands slipped towards the Doctor's member and he caressed it carefully, causing the Doctor to gasp and clench.  
"Jack, what are you doing?" asked the Doctor earnestly and nudged Jack in the ribs with an elbow.  
"I'm only trying to help" replied Jack.  
"You're trying to help yourself with your half-hard limb by touching a poor innocent Time Lord's body in an inappropriate way, right?" replied the Doctor and turned his head over his shoulder to meet Jack's irritated gaze.  
"If you're trying to keep me from getting a hard-on I can assure you that it's not gonna work like this" answered Jack bluntly and rubbed the Doctor's delicate organ carefully.  
"There is no way of keeping a human being from the fifty-first century from achieving and maintaining an erection" replied the Doctor and moaned quietly. Jack sure knew how to handle the Doctor's todger and intensified his grip while stroking it rhythmically.

The Doctor pressed his hands against the wall and leaned forward. His back hurt and the arising erection sure would be painful if he wouldn't find a way to support the small of his back. His lower abdomen was killing him, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the twinge in his lumbar vertebra column.  
The Doctor spat on the floor and panted.

Blimey, this bloody brat made his bloody sick body feel bloody awful!  
And for the first time in his life the Doctor had wished he could have had sex with Jack without having to worry about other things, like if the pain in his body was going to become worse or if Jack would still be able to penetrate him properly after all those tubes and medical instruments had been forced into nearly every bodily orifice.

Just having plain, filthy and unconstrained sex would have been all he had wanted right now. And that was also something he experienced for the first time in his life. He had never thought about the act of sex as much as he was thinking about it right now. And he was horny. He was _so_ horny.  
The Doctor had never known the meaning of this word. Alright, he had learned the meaning of "horny" or "randy" or "unstoppable" when he had met Jack for the first time. But he had never _felt_ horny himself. He had assumed that it had been one of those primitive human sensations, an instinct (to be more specific) to keep them busy when they were bored or bubbling over with energy in order to keep them from killing each other all the time.

The Doctor gritted his teeth again and groaned while Jack moved against his body impatiently.  
Jack wouldn't stop caressing the Doctor's member – he was worried, no, he KNEW that the Doctor had to be kept aroused, otherwise he'd remember sooner or later that he wasn't as dominated by his drives (especially his sex drive) as primitive human beings; or just himself in particular. Jack assumed it to be normal to think about sex all the time, to pick up everything within reach (or even above or below) because he simply had no standards. It wasn't hard to meet Jack's expectations.  
In case something wanted to draw Jack's attention to themselves all it had to have was a nearly human appearance (and "nearly" was a very elastic concept) and had to have a hole in it; somewhat or somehow. Jack hadn't met any species without any kind of orifices so far but he figured that he'd hump anything either way, even _if_ it was lacking the benefits of owning a penetrateable opening.

Jack hadn't told the Doctor but actually it wasn't as if everyone in the fifty-first century was like him, flirting with everything that had two legs (or even more) just to get a chance of getting between them. It was easy for him to make the Doctor believe it because the Doctor hadn't been to the fifty-first century till now.  
Well, actually it was just him.  
Jack.  
He was perverted, he had a one-track mind. But he knew that the Doctor would try to change him, he knew that the Doctor wouldn't accept his promiscuity and sexual open mindedness if he'd find out that it was his personal attitude only.

Jack kissed the Doctor's neck.  
But the Doctor never had to find out. It was fine the way it was. He mustn't know, Jack figured.  
And this way it was much easier to talk him into having sex, because the Doctor thought it to be normal for him.

And furthermore Jack wanted the Doctor to become a bit more like him, concerning the perverted and horny parts of his personality. Well, he figured that whishing for a partner that wouldn't cry after a thirty minutes' penetration wasn't asking too much. The Doctor was tensed; he was always tensed when Jack tried to get inside of him. And uptight.  
Jack smiled at the word 'tight' in 'uptight'. Well it definitely didn't take much to stimulate him.  
Well, the Doctor _was_ uptight, figuratively as well as literally.  
But Jack figured that if Time Lords weren't made to have sexual intercourse, or if their bodies weren't adjusted to it, then you had to adjust them.

In other words he was working on loosening up the Doctor's tight hole by fingering him as often as possible.

The Doctor dug his nails into Jack's thighs as Jack pushed two fingers into the Doctor's cramped cavity and gasped for air.  
"Oh you can take more than that" smirked Jack and moved his fingers inside of the Doctor. He was sick with excitement and anticipation.  
"You're demanding too much from me" whispered the Doctor, leaving Jack no other opportunity but to moan aloud with pleasure.  
"Are you saying this because you feel that you can't take any more and want me to spare you the pain of getting ruthlessly penetrated or are you saying this because you _know_ that I'm getting so horny that I can hardly hold back just due to your dirty talk?" asked Jack while working on loosening up the Doctor.

The Doctor chuckled. He felt Jack's hot breath in his neck, it was still sensible in the steamy shower. Jack _really_ had to be horny, the Doctor figured.

"Are you teasing me, Doctor?" asked Jack. He felt the increasing throbbing of his cock and he was becoming more and more twitchy every moment.  
"Do you think that I can take any more?" whispered the Doctor "Do you think you could be okay with knowing that you've hurt me worse than anybody else?"

"You know my answer to that question," replied Jack and panted. One sure advantage of having sex in the shower was that you wouldn't have to wash yourself for hours because you've spent half of the last day with a sticky body down on a dirty and messy bed. Or, likewise, with two exhausted bodies on the sheets.  
"And you know that I'll manage to make you scream and writhe in pain and beg for more just because you can't think of anything else apart from choking on my swollen cock and getting torn into half by it!" Jack added some fingers into the Doctor's tight hole and pushed them in deeper and deeper until he could hear the Doctor scream.

There was a brief moment of embarrassed silence until the Doctor had found his voice again.

"Try me" hissed the Doctor and looked over his shoulder, giving Jack the slinky stare he always gave him when he wanted him so badly.

"Oh, I'll try you in every way possible and probably some that aren't!"


	12. Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more smut.

Jack gave it a try.  
He'd never miss an opportunity to do the Doctor and exploit his poor and underlain body, especially not if the Doctor was even asking for it.

Jack moved closer and closer, pressing his hot chest against the Doctor's back. The Doctor flinched as his swollen abdomen got forced against the cold tilled wall. He had to admit that he was at least a bit surprised that Jack hadn't noticed his bodily changes so far.  
Alright, the Doctor hadn't gained that much weight and his abdominal girth had only slightly increased but he had suspected that Jack would notice every minor change in the his slim body. But maybe he had been wrong about that.  
After all Jack was a man and noticing changes (like the time when the Doctor had painted the hub of the Tardis a different colour or when he had been wearing a fur coat for nearly a month just because he wondered when Jack would ask him what it was all about) in his current partner was definitely not his forte. Though the Doctor suspected that Jack would notice it instantly if he would have decided on wearing fewer garments instead of more.

The Doctor felt a kick of the brat again as Jack increased his pressure on the Doctor's body and pressed his stomach flatly against the tiles.  
It had dared to kick him.  
Again.  
It wouldn't stop drawing his attention towards it.

"[Oh, is it too cold for you?]" the Doctor snarled quietly and pressed his hands against the wall "[Is it too uncomfortable?]" Bloody brat, he hissed voiceless and felt his upper abdomen tensing.  
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite get that" panted Jack behind him. The Doctor closed his eyes as Jack desisted from his tight cavity for a moment to spat on his fingers and moisturize them in order to make the Doctor's entrance more slippery.  
"[It wasn't intended for your ears]" snapped the Doctor and grunted as Jack forced his fingers back into his body. He coughed restlessly to suppress the urge to join in Jack's unconstrained moaning and felt the blood rushing down into his pelvic area.  
Jack's movements sure were...  
The Doctor gasped for air.

Jack sure knew how to arouse the Doctor, though the Doctor hadn't believed him that it was actually possible to stimulate a Time Lord.  
Unless of course you'd show him a newly developed type of sonic weapon.

The Doctor chuckled.  
Of course he remembered how he'd met Jack for the first time. And he'd probably never forget it.

But what the Doctor was definitely never going to forget was the first chat-up line Jack had used on him after he'd discovered that he was a Time Lord.  
The Doctor closed his eyes as Jack moved closer and became more and more impatient with his weak and skinny body.

"Want to see the sonic blaster in my pants?"

That was all he'd said. Followed by a slinky smile and a quiet chuckle.  
And the Doctor had laughed so hard he had collapsed onto the floor and hadn't been able to stop himself from laughing for minutes. And after he'd caught a glimpse of Jack's unsettled glare he had bought him a drink.  
So, in a way you could say the chat-up line had worked. And the Doctor wasn't quite sure if Jack hadn't actually intended to say something that sounded so poorly that the Doctor had to do something in order to cheer him up.

But you never knew with a human being from the fifty-first century, the Doctor figured.

The Doctor flinched and pressed both of his hands against his stomach, his head hit the wall inevitable as he collapsed against it and struggled for air.  
The brat that had caused the bulge in his abdomen to increase wouldn't stop kicking him and seemed to toss and turn around like mad.  
The Doctor gritted his teeth as the pain in his body became more apparent and at the same time more and more annoying.  
"[Bloody brat! Will you stop that for a moment? I'll rip you out with my bare hands if you won't stop bugging me! For Kasterborous' sake!]"

Jack stood quietly behind the Doctor and stroked his shoulders carefully. The Doctor banged his head against the tilled wall once or twice before letting out a cry of anguish and pain.  
He hadn't meant to shout and let Jack know all about it! Oh, he was so stupid, he was so human he could barely stand it!

"Doctor?" Jack asked in a low voice and intensified his grip on the Doctor's shoulders in order to turn him around.  
The Doctor pushed his hands aside and covered his stomach with both arms.  
"Did I hurt you?" asked Jack quietly as the Doctor slumped down and slammed his hands against the tilled floor. Tears had welled up in his eyes and were now slowly trailing down his cheeks while mixing with the constant warm water dribbling from above.

This goddamn foetus was driving him insane! It drained his energy; it changed him; it made him furious! He was losing control over his emotions and his tongue likewise and all because of the bloody creature that had been implanted into his body!  
He let out a deep long-drawn out sigh and pressed his hands against his lower abdomen again.  
And on top of it: now he was forced to explain it all to Jack!

"I'm sorry Doctor" whispered Jack and squatted down beside him while stroking his back tenderly. "I didn't mean to hurt you. But... please Doctor... I didn't... I didn't know you'd wanted me to stop! You were talking Gallifreyan and I didn't understand a word. Normally I don't care about that, I know that you tend to speak your mother language unintentionally and it doesn't bother me. But I didn't know that I had been hurting you so badly!"  
Jack grasped the Doctor carefully by his chin and pulled up his head so that he could look him deeply in the eye: "I mean it, Doctor! I thought you were enjoying this."

The Doctor sighed and closed his eyes. The brat in his lower abdomen had calmed down. He poked his bulge in annoyance and stared at his feet.  
"I did, Jack. I really did. You didn't hurt me" replied the Doctor eventually to Jack's relief. And the Doctor himself was so relieved that he wrapped his arms around Jack and pulled him closer to him while kissing his neck.  
"What did you say?" asked Jack at least a bit irritated and wrapped his strong arms around the Doctor's small chest before pulling him slowly into an upright position. "In Gallifreyan, what did you say, what were you talking about?" The Doctor looked over Jack's shoulder, tears welling up in his eyes again.

He knew that he had to tell him. He knew that he couldn't hide it forever from Jack. But he didn't want the moment to be right here, right now.  
He felt he hadn't enjoyed the time he spent with Jack, the trips he'd taken with Jack and, bloody hell, the sex, the primitive and dirty sex he had had with Jack, he hadn't enjoyed it enough.  
The Doctor had to tell him.

But not now.

Tightly the Doctor wrapped his arms around Jack and tumbled forward, pushing Jack's back against the cooling tilled wall.  
"How come you're still able to maintain a hard-on after you've been worrying about hurting me?" asked the Doctor and thereby omitted his reply "It takes more than that to turn off a human being from the fifty-first century" replied Jack while chuckling and let his hands slip down to the Doctor's hips before intensifying his grip.  
"Oh Jack if you'd spared me from forcing me into copulation with you after every time you've said that..." the Doctor whispered and looked Jack deeply into the eye.

"I know, I know..." Jack added "then we wouldn't have ever had sex. You've said that before."  
The Doctor chuckled as Jack caressed his neck and pulled him towards his hot and muscular body.

"But seriously, you human beings from the fifty-first century must be some tough fellows," the Doctor went on as Jack rubbed his hard member against the Doctor's thighs "nearly indestructible; picking up everything; unexclusive..." Jack's erect limb moved towards the Doctor's todger and pushed against his groin full of expectation "...thought they tend to mistake male specimen of other races for female ones because they would pick up both."  
Jack smiled as well and pushed harder against the Doctor's half-hard limb.

The Doctor cocked an eyebrow at him and smiled faintly "Well, I'm afraid that I have to disappoint you but it isn't going to work like this."

"Shut up" hissed Jack and smiled before tickling the Doctor and he wasn't satisfied until the Doctor would collapse into his arms and twitch uncontrollably.  
"All in all an underdeveloped race, right Doctor?" continued Jack in a huff and intensified his grip on the Doctor's body again,  
"A primitive, retarded and backward race to which the Time Lords are definitively superior, isn't that right, Doctor?"  
"Well you could at least try to humping me properly instead of trying to use me the wrong way. And I have to disappoint you: although your folk believes that a Time Lord is full of surprises it doesn't mean necessarily that I have hidden cavities which you haven't penetrated until now. So, no, Jack, it's of no use if you try to separate my legs by force and get between them, you won't be able to poke me this way. Unless of course you _do_ have a sonic blaster in your pants right now and will thereby force an artificial hole to come forward where my lower abdomen had been till then."

Jack chuckled and grabbed the Doctor's legs, pulling them apart and pressing his groin against his own, before lifting his body slightly in order to come between the Doctor's legs properly and gain access to the Doctor's tight but, at the cost of huge efforts, penetrateable hole.  
"Well, we should at least give it a try, shan't we?" asked Jack and forced himself into the Doctor while smashing the beloved slinky body against the tilled wall and picking up speed as soon as the Doctor had gasped for air. The Doctor whimpered and moaned as soon as he had found his voice again.

"Jack," the Doctor yelped and dug his fingernails into Jack's back who would retort nothing but an impassioned groan.  
"I'm sorry, dear" moaned Jack and thrust in deeper in deeper, feeling nothing but the tightening warmness around his throbbing cock "I'm just as impatient as you are."  
"If you ever dare to say that again..." hissed the Doctor through gritted teeth and clung tightly to Jack's body, trying to meet his rhythm, trying to incline his pelvis in order to keep his poor and defenceless body from getting pushed too hard.  
"I'm sorry, _dear_ , but you have to admit that..."  
Jack got cut off by the Doctor: "I'm not your 'dear' whatever, neither I am your 'darling' your 'muffin' your 'pumpkin', your 'sweetheart', your 'sweetie', your 'honey', your 'kitty cat' or your 'cupcake'! I'm the Doctor, Jack, nothing more but the Doctor and I don't even approve of you calling me _your_ Doctor! I'm just _the Doctor_ , Jack! Bloody hell, what is it with you humans and your pet names?"

Jack cocked an eyebrow at the Doctor and pushed himself deeper into him, making the Doctor wince and writhe in pain. "I'm sorry _Doctor_ " chuckled Jack, "but you're a fine one, aren't you? Superior race and everything, ten times older than a normal human being can even dream of growing, intelligent, highly developed and all. But that's the trouble with you: you know how superior you are but you can't take advantage of it. You're superior to me but you can't even offer resistance if I subdue you, if I defile your body, if I degrade or debase you; you won't stand a chance against me and if you're not willingly to let me enter your body, I'll take you by force and you know it."  
The Doctor flinched as Jack pressed his hips against the Doctors to reinforce his arguments.

He's right; the Doctor caught himself thinking for a moment; I can't defend myself against anybody.

"Jack, stop that." The Doctor looked Jack deeply in the eye, "Jack please I mean it, that's not funny."  
Jack nodded quietly and hissed a muffled "Sorry" into the Doctor's ear.

"Tell me this, will you Jack?" the Doctor began after Jack had started grunting aloud again, "Why is our dirty talk always this strange?"

"It's an interracial problem, I guess," moaned Jack and palpated the Doctor's tight hole which he was currently dealing with both the inside and the outside "we don't know how to arouse each other."  
"And no matter what you say it's turning me off and arousing you" added the Doctor "and that's the way it will always be."  
"Well, then, how about telling me what would arouse you?" Jack went on and breathed down the Doctor's neck and sucked countless kisses off the Time Lord's small and dry lips, "Why don't you tell me what I can say to you in order to stimulate you?"

"You can't, Jack" replied the Doctor firmly "a Time Lord isn't meant to be stimulated. He can only be taken advantage of. And either way you wouldn't be able to say those few seductive words to me, that could arouse me; they're Gallifreyan."  
"Oh, come on," puffed and panted Jack "you only get turned on by your mother language? You're pretty narrow-minded. I don't get turned on by English, only. If you want to arouse me you could say: 'Je vais te baiser' or 'Fick mich von hinten auf Knien bis ich nicht mehr sitzen kann' likewise. Goddamn it, I guess I would even get aroused by you talking Gallifreyan, I don't care if I don't get a word. I just love to hear you talking to me like that, Doctor, no matter what you're saying."

The Doctor smiled benignly and let himself get pushed harder and harder. The Doctor pressed his chest against Jack's to feel their heartbeats adapting. The Doctor's hearts were now racing and he gasped for air constantly.

"Jack, please be patient with me" moaned the Doctor while Jack pushed him towards the tilled wall and moved closer, pressing the Doctor's body flatly against the tiles "I'll do everything in order to please you, but just be patient."  
He felt Jack slowing down a bit as he kissed his neck.  
"One doesn't have to be smart to outsmart you" teased the Doctor "It's not hard to take you in."  
"I trust you" justified Jack his reaction and fondled the Doctor's thighs tenderly "and by the way: You sure have troubles taking me in, so keep your mouth shut or I'll carry on penetrating you until you execrate your Gods for creating primitive species like the human beings."

"I don't have a God, Jack" replied the Doctor between yelping and panted. "I've stopped joining cults and worshipping divine creatures four hundred years ago... or is it six hundred by now? Mh, depends what century we're currently in, I guess. Anyway Jack, I don't have Gods, I don't have a [religion], and I'm certainly not part of a believe system. And the only true God to me was [faith] and I know that I've lost touch with it."

Jack had listened quietly and didn't need to speak Gallifreyan to understand that the Doctor's mood had changed and he was slipping back into his depressive state of mind.

He sighed and kissed the Doctor's neck passionately, hoping that he'd be thereby able to stir him up again.  
"You can damn well hope that my boner's staying. If you can bring it down with your mouth I'm afraid I have to ask you to get it up with it likewise and you know that I wouldn't be satisfied just with penetrating your oral cavity, I want my cock down your throat and if you're not willing to take it, I'll force it in."

"I'd say 'Try me' if I wouldn't know that you'd actually do so," replied the Doctor and moaned as Jack picked up the pace again. The Doctor's back was pressed against the wall flatly as he wrapped his legs around Jack's hips to give him the opportunity to penetrate him deeply.  
Jack moaned and moved against the Doctor, chest on chest, pelvis on pelvis, and groin against lower abdomen. Jack felt that he couldn't hold back any longer and moaned deafening into the Doctor's ear while feeling how his ejaculate filled the Doctor up slowly while only sporadic drops tended to gush out.  
The Doctor panted as well as Jack and felt his heart rates slowing down again.

"Oh no, you don't" chuckled Jack "If you don't cum on me, I'll take you in for another round."  
The Doctor panted and rolled his eyes.  
"I told you, it's hard for me to get aroused. I'm not attracted to everything, like you are, Jack. I don't get a stiffy just because someone mentions the words 'wet' and 'hole' in one sentence," explained the Doctor and tried to get his feet again but Jack refused to lower his body to the ground.  
"It wasn't that hard to get going when I told you about my sonic blaster" chuckled Jack. The Doctor stared at him in surprise for a moment before bursting out laughing.  
"Jack, you're an idiot!"

Jack reached for the Doctor's member and grabbed it firmly. "If you're not willing to take care of it yourself..." mumbled Jack and kissed the Doctor's neck.  
The Doctor rolled his eyes and tried to push Jack's hands aside in order to please himself properly.  
"Jack, you're doing it wrong, I don't..." the Doctor began but Jack wouldn't release his member and intensified his grip.  
"Then show me, Doctor" he replied in a soothing voice.  
The Doctor placed his hands on top of Jack's as they both started to work on the Time Lord's todger with increasing speed.

Jack palpated the Doctor's tight hole while jacking him off and kissed his neck. The Doctor rested his head on Jack's shoulder while panting and whispering quietly words only he would understand, and even though Jack wouldn't understand what the Doctor had wanted to do to him, since he was speaking in his mother tongue again, the Doctor would have been too ashamed only knowing that Jack could hear him.

After Jack had felt the hot semen gushing out of the Doctor's throbbing and twitching member against his wet skin he lowered the Doctor slowly to the ground, placing his body between his legs. But the Doctor wouldn't let go off Jack and snuggled against him.  
Thereby Jack was forced to squat down beside him; he stroke the cuddly Time Lord fondly.  
"And you don't want me to call you 'kitty cat'," mumbled Jack quietly.  
The Doctor smiled slinky and dug his nails into Jack's thighs before rubbing his face against them.

Silence arose once more and the distant song of the Tardis became barely audible, only to be disturbed by Jack whistling again.  
The Doctor's head was by now resting in Jack's lap as he let the warm water sprinkle down upon his face. Jack sighed and tried to memorize the words again.

"Do you remember it, Doctor?" asked Jack while he caressed the Doctor's neck "I used to listen to this music... you know, the retro one... there was a song... but I can't remember the words, not all of them... of course you know..."  
"The one you forced me to listen to over and over again?" asked the Doctor and opened an eye to give Jack a scrutinizing glare.  
"You didn't _have_ to listen to it" countered Jack.  
"Jack, I was tied to you bed, what else could I have done than listening to it?" asked the Doctor and snuggled against Jack's thighs.  
"You could have asked me to stop playing it" replied Jack and ran his fingers through the Doctor's hair.  
"You had gagged me, you idiot!" yelled the Doctor "I had asked you to stop playing it... and stop doing other things to me... things which I don't want to speak about right now..."

Jack above him chuckled and started whistling again.  
"I know that song, Jack" assured him the Doctor.  
"But like I said, I can't remember the words" countered Jack "not all of them."

Jack sighed and rested his back on the cold tilled wall.  
_"But we had a dream_  
And it was meant to be  
And we were kissing gods  
Against all the odds...  
Do you remember it?" The Doctor rolled his head into the nape of his neck and closed his eyes, letting the warm water splash over his face.  
" _Now it's a crying shame_ " added the Doctor quietly:  
" _And it's a crying shame_  
You don't know who to blame  
We'll never be..."  
"Yeah, I remember now, thank you" interrupted Jack before the Doctor could have finished it. The Doctor had sobbed, he had tried to hide it from Jack but he had sniffed quietly. And he didn't like the Doctor like that; he was way too gloomy to be himself.  
It seemed as if the Doctor's mind was nothing but a great big black hole in which he used to crawl whenever he felt uncomfortable or uneasy.  
And though Jack liked thinking about the Doctor's holes he couldn't do anything with a hole in the Doctor's mind.  
And the Doctor seemed depressed. Whenever Jack would stop trying to cheer him up he'd instantly start acting dejectedly.

"Well, _we'll_ never _be the same_ , anyway" mumbled the Doctor.  
"Don't say that", snapped Jack "I don't want you to say that."

The Doctor shrugged before adding: "I'm getting cold, Jack..."and rolled to one side to get on all fours only seconds later.  
Jack sighed.

The Doctor crawled out of the shower and grabbed a towel which collapsed from a pile onto the floor; the Tardis was in the mood to help him for once.  
Jack followed him instantly.  
The Doctor tried covering himself with the towel, he found that it was even big enough for him to crawl under it and disappear beneath it.  
Jack watched him with disbelieving eyes. "How does that work?" he asked and squatted down beside the Doctor again.

"Biwwer won dee infide" mumbled a muffled voice from beneath the towel. Jack raised it a few inches and looked under it.  
"What?"  
"I said it's bigger on the inside, Jack. The towel's part of the Tardis, therefore it's bigger on the inside as well."  
The Doctor growled and pulled the cover over his head again.

"Are you planning on staying?" asked Jack after he'd received no reply to prior questions. The humming of the Tardis grew closer.  
"Doctor, I asked if you're planning on staying?" repeated Jack.

Jack nudged the mound of towel in front of him.  
"Just go away." was a muffled reply from under the towel and Jack sighed quietly.  
"I thought you were cold" mumbled Jack and got to his feet again.

"GO AWAY!" the Doctor's voice was cold and Jack was surprised at the Doctor's harsh tone.

"Alright" he tried to appease him and moved towards the door, "I'll wait for you on the outside."  
Jack opened the door and slammed it shut without budging from his current position. But he saw the Doctor wincing at the sudden thud of the slammed door.  
And he saw the Doctor writhing in pain.  
And he was there when the Doctor's body started to twitch uncontrollably.  
And he heard the Doctor moaning and whimpering from underneath the towel constantly.  
And he heard him screaming "Why, why, why?!" over and over again.  
And he couldn't do anything apart from standing beside him and watching him suffer.

Because he knew that he couldn't blow it all away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone know the title of the song the Doctor remembers?


	13. Overdue

"You're doing it wrong."  
"I know what I'm doing, Jack."  
"I don't even know why you're doing this, Doctor."  
"Make yourself useful and hand me the wooden spoon over there, would you?"  
"Doctor, stop that! This is madness!"  
"It's only Bouillabaisse, Jack."  
"But it looks highly explosive nonetheless."

The Doctor sighed and raised his head, steam emerging from the cooking pot with the closed lid.

"And I bet those vapours are toxic."

"Look, Jack" the Doctor turned around and folded his arms, giving Jack an angry stare; though his appearance lacked a certain amount of seriousness, what with him holding the cooking spoon in one hand,  
"Maybe it would be best for both of us if you'd return to your work, your life, your office (which is apparently your living room, dining room, kitchen and bedroom as well), your hilarious-alien-hunt or whatever you're comfortable with calling your work in Torchwood. Seriously Jack, I don't care. But I'm afraid you've crowded me for too long and right now I'm really worried about you rubbing off on me and no Jack, I'm afraid that was no slinky innuendo but my honest opinion: I really need some alone time, Jack. I need privacy."

"You wouldn't know privacy if it's been living with you in your Tardis for the last decades" replied Jack sulkily and folded his arms "and I told you before: I can't leave you alone."  
"But I don't want you around here!" the Doctor snapped before giving it much thought.

Jack sighed and rested his back against the door.  
"Fine" he replied quietly "then tell me what to do."  
"Alright, turn around, face the other way, go left, go straight, go left again, turn right, take the staircase to your left (don't take the other one for even I don't know where that one's leading) and after you've passed the controls there's a door again that will show you the way back into the normal life on earth. So why don't you give it a try?"  
The Doctor was smiling; he always smiled this way when he'd said something that had offended others, though he wouldn't notice. The Doctor might have been the last offspring of a highly developed and sophisticated race; but he wasn't what you would have called sensitive.

Jack folded his arms once more and grabbed his elbows tightly, facing the Doctor with narrowed eyes. He'd been hurt by the Doctor's words, though he'd learned to cover it up.

"Fine" he repeated "If that's the way you want it..."  
"You've never done anything the way _I_ wanted it, Jack" the Doctor tried to release the tension by making small kinky jokes.  
But obviously he failed.  
"You're a fine one to talk" snapped Jack "and I want you to get this straight; I don't care! I don't care what's going to happen to you, I don't care if there's anyone inside of your Tardis and I don't care what they're going to do to you. And don't you come crawling back to me, I don't want to receive a phone call from you in the middle of the night that you've been hurt or injured or nearly killed or whatever if you're not willing to talk to me about it! I've told you several times that you need help, Doctor. But you don't want help. You don't want help from me neither do you want it from anybody else. You just want things to stay like they are. And you know why?"  
The Doctor approached Jack and grasped his shoulders. "Jack, calm down I didn't mean to upset you" the Doctor tried to appease him.

"Because you think that you don't need it. You can run. You can always run and hide when there's trouble ahead. I'll never know if I'll ever get to see you again because you can simply throw me out of your Tardis and relocate it until I won't be able to find your traces ever again. And then you're just gone. You can run from me, Doctor. You can always run away from the trouble.  
But I can't."  
"Jack, I said calm down" repeated the Doctor and intensified his grip on Jack's shoulders.

"You know what, Doctor?"

The Doctor hesitated. "Jack..."

"Have it your way."

Jack pushed the Doctor's hands off, grabbed his coat, which he'd hung over a chair in the kitchen, and pushed the door open before rushing through the corridors.  
The Doctor sighed while listening to the fading footsteps.

Why are all humans so complicated?, he asked himself, Why are they always so sensitive?  
He shrugged and turned back to the stove, reducing the heat and removing the lid from the pot.  
He'd never had that kind of trouble with the Silurian girl who'd travelled with him, he reassured himself.

The Doctor's attention got somehow caught by the chair again. Jack had been sitting there, probably for hours watching him failing at cooking.  
And still there was something sitting there.

The jewel box. The small jewel box.  
It must have fallen out of Jack's coat pocked as he'd placed the coat over the seat.

The Doctor picked the box up and rushed towards the door.

"Jack!"

He shouted after him several times but it didn't seem as though he'd reach him in time.  
Strangely, he had to admit; he didn't even hear footsteps anymore. There was no sound from the staircase above him. Either Jack had taken the wrong way or...

The Doctor stared at the ceiling as the Tardis' humming faded away slowly.  
"Did you show him the wrong way?" asked the Doctor irritated,  
"Didn't you guide him? He couldn't have memorized it correctly. But he must have come this way, I'm sure he..."

Footsteps approached, becoming louder and louder. Heavy footsteps which belonged to someone who wouldn't bother running.  
Someone who knew that they wouldn't need to rush.

The Doctor turned around, unable to locate the directions from where he could hear them. As if they were around him. As if the footsteps were above him...

"Jack?" he asked anxiously "Jack?!"

"I told you to keep away from Jack" a low voice echoed around the Tardis. The lights in the corridor, where the Doctor was currently standing irritated, faded one by one and went out with a buzzing noise. The humming of the Tardis became louder and deafening as the footsteps neared.  
"Who are you?" the Doctor shouted and his panic-fuelled voice echoed strangely "Where are you? And why do you keep talking about Jack? What's he got to do with it?"

The Doctor stumbled away from the fading lights and grabbed the next door handle he could find. He pushed the door open and stormed in to find his library again. The Doctor ran his fingers through his hair.

No!, he told himself over and over again, this was wrong. There shouldn't be the library. There was supposed to be a hallway, or a small corridor, he couldn't excatly remember. But there'd never been his library. It shouldn't be there. It just shouldn't!

It dawned on him. Someone was controlling the Tardis. Someone knew how to manipulate her. Someone else knew it...

Helplessly the Doctor turned around as the footsteps were still coming closer.  
"Who are you?!" he yelled at no one in particular "And why are you doing this to me?"

There was no reply from the darkening corridor in front of him. The Doctor patted his breast pocket to find that his sonic screwdriver was still missing. And over the years he'd learned that it was probably always the best thing to talk to your aggressor. Unless of course it was a Dalek. But the Doctor hadn't quite given up all hope that he could talk his way of this.  
At least it seemed to be worth a try.

"You took my screwdriver, didn't you?" he asked nervously and moved backwards until his back was pressed against a pile of books "Why? What do you need my sonic screwdriver for?"

"I'm afraid we couldn't let you keep it" explained the low voice. The Doctor was becoming more and more anxious. He knew that voice, he knew it like he knew himself. He knew that voice.  
But he wouldn't recognize it! Why, why, why wouldn't he recognize it?! He'd heard it so many times before. He knew it's tone, it's sound, it's accent...

"What do you want from me?" the Doctor asked while searching the library for a trap door. He knew that there had been a trap door a long time ago. Or once in a while. Well, all that mattered to him right now was that there had been a trapdoor and he knew it. All he had to do now was rediscover the...

"We need you, Doctor."  
The footsteps from without had fallen silent. Someone must be standing right in the dark in front of the library.

"We're in dire need of your help."

The Doctor raised his head.  
"HELP?!" he cried unbelievingly, "You need my help?! You're torturing me, you're aiming at deconstructing my body in order to put it together again in the wrong order, you've been inserting a foetus into my lower abdomen and tantalised me by cutting me open over and over again. And then you've locked me up and..." The light above the Doctor began to flicker as the door to his library got pushed open. Yet it was still too dark to see a thing. Apart from black shoes on the door sill.

The Doctor swallowed hard.  
"And you say that you need my help?"  
He backed away and tried to hide behind those innumerable books.  
He crawled around the floor and had lost sight of the dark shoes. Likewise he came to notice that he must have lost the small jewellery box he'd been holding in his cramped fingers till now. But Jack's casket had to wait for now, he figured. Nervously he searched the floor for any sign of the intruder to receive a gentle tap on the shoulder. The Doctor froze in shocked silence.

"You can run but you can't hide, Doctor," explained the low voice with a sigh

"And now: Hold still!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. And warning: the next chapter is going to be really disgusting.


	14. Panic Station

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter might be quite disturbing for some...

The Doctor opened his eyes and moaned.  
He hurt.  
He ached all over.  
He was lying on his back and turned over to one side slowly. It hurt. It hurt so badly he wanted to scream but he felt he had no voice left.

He was back in the small room. In the enclosure. They had put him back...  
The Doctor turned his head around and blinked. Somehow it looked different. He was sure that there had been plants the last time he had been here. Or it had been only his imagination... But the room seemed as damp as it had been before. And the animalistic smell was still lingering in the air.

He chuckled hopelessly. Well, after all it was an enclosure... maybe they had kept other animals in here before...  
_Real_ animals, the Doctor corrected himself.

He sat up slowly and rubbed his back. He felt terrible. His back... he winced as soon as he had pressed a hand against his back. The Doctor felt like dying. His body felt as if every bone left in it had been broken and all of them were now trying to coalesce at the same time.

Several figures dressed in white coats came closer and gathered around a Silurian, who was somehow dresses like a surgeon; it stopped in front of the enclosure.  
It seemed as if he explained something quietly before turning towards the Doctor; the surgeons' assistants faced him as well.  
Most of them were wearing glasses and for some reason their eyes were too dark to be seen through them. The others stared at the encaged Doctor full of expectation. The Silurian surgeon broke the oppressive silence.

"You see, usually the procedure takes place after the laboratory animal... excuse me, laboratory creature has been slaughtered. But recent studies have clearly demonstrated that a minimally invasive surgery is more than sufficient; thus granting the creature's survival and guaranteeing its continued existence for research purposes. And last but not least it makes it reusable."

The Doctor crawled nearer and pressed one ear against the Plexiglas plate, hoping he'd be able to hear what the Silurian surgeon was talking about.

"A sustainable method for extracting the foetal serum has been developed over the past few months, and I have to admit that we're proud to present you our first living object on which it will be performed within a short time."  
The eyes and glasses seemed to focus on the Doctor for a moment before turning towards the Silurian again.

"But first I'd like to have a brief word about the considerable advantages of extracting the foetal serum from a living creature. To begin with, you're not forced to take precautions against the immediate decay of the body. Secondly there's no need of additional matters to make sure that the foetus is still alive, you save unnecessary work like attaching ECG's or observing the status of the foetus via ultrasounds.  
Though it has to be said that the laboratory creature is undergoing a lot of stress during the procedure and of course a high adrenalin level could have a bad impact on the quality of the serum. But I want to let you know that we're a responsible company and we're putting emphasis on high ethical standards. Therefore the creature is going to be mildly sedated."

The Doctor heard a hissing sound from above and looked up. A mixture of fog, which seemed to be falling down on him slowly, and light rain dispensed over the sprinkler installation.  
The Doctor breathed heavily and smashed his knuckles against the wall screaming.  
The Silurian took a step forward and turned his back on him; he stood in front of the Doctor in order to spare the assistants the sight.

The Silurian surgeon showed his attendants a long needle and passed it on to them.  
The Doctor was staggered and stared at the medical instrument in horror.

"Here we have a classic eight inch disposable syringe. The diameter of the needle is 0.2 inches at the most. It is highly recommended to use needles with a diameter of 0.3 inches or below to harvest the blood from the foetus. The normal method of collection is cardiac puncture, whereby a needle is inserted into the heart of the foetus. This minimizes the danger of serum contamination with micro-organisms from the foetus itself, and the environment.  
Sadly we're not able to use any sort of narcotics in order to be safe and make sure that the serum isn't contaminated or of less value. Therefore it is important to make certain that the foetus is alive while the needle is being inserted into its heart."

The Doctor gulped and stared at the crowd in shocked silence while he experienced a feeling that could be described as equally to 'being forced to gobble up your own intestines after having them pulled out of your body by hand through your gritted teeth'.

"After harvesting the serum from the foetus it is essential to remove the dead foetus from the laboratory creature as soon as possible; otherwise serious complications are likely to occur and, in the worst case, they will lead to acute kidney failure, liver failure, sepsis and multiple organ failure right before the creature's inevitable and painful death."

The Doctor had held his breath and stared at the Silurian Doctor with unbelieving eyes.  
He was speechless and froze in shocked silence.  
They were going to cut him open and insert a needle into... a living being's heart to drain its blood. They were going to insert a needle into the foetus he had been forced to carry till now. And he would be still able to feel _it_ ; he would feel how the foetus would struggle against it, how it would kick and push and turn inside of him helplessly.

He was forced to experience the death struggle of the foetus inside of his body, he was condemned to feel and witness how it would suffer and die miserably.

The Doctor pressed his hands against his abdomen and felt his hearts racing. And he could feel two small increasing heart rates as well.

And he stroke at the glass plate in front of him and yelled at the witnesses.  
The Silurian turned to him slowly and squatted down, meeting his gaze face to face.

He smiled. It was no evil smile. It was no vicious smirk.  
It was worse.

The Silurian surgeon gave him a look as if the Doctor had been some small, frightened creature you needed to caress and deceive that everything was going to be alright.  
And the surgeon thought that he wouldn't notice. He thought him to be a stupid animal which had been locked in a cage, some creature he could appease with his words; he thought that the Doctor wouldn't understand what they were doing to him and the inserted foetus.  
Or he simply didn't care about it.

The Doctor was a laboratory creature, after all. His purpose in life was being tortured, cut open, maltreated, ill-treated, later on cured and in the end nearly properly reassembled. It wasn't as if he was of no value to them; he simply was as valuable as any other laboratory animal, only with the benefit that he could heal himself - which would be an asset to them.  
He knew they were not only going to harvest the blood from the unborn foetus; sooner or later they'd try to harvest anything that could be useful to them from the Doctor as well.

And as long as he was able to regenerate and heal himself, they'd be able to get even more and more from him over the time.

The Doctor smashed his palms against the Plexiglas and screamed at him.  
The Silurian shook his head and sighed.

"The normal preparation for surgery is now about to begin. Please step aside as I'm now to unlock the laboratory creature's enclosure."  
He pressed buttons on a near wall and the glass plate lifted slowly. The Doctor breathed heavily and crouched into a corner; he was getting weaker, he moved slower. The narcotics had begun to take effect.

The Silurian stepped into the till now locked area. The Doctor stared at him panic-stricken.  
"You may now follow me into the creature's enclosure. But please be careful. And please let only those who are wearing gloves touch the creature."

Two of the assistants moved closer and grabbed the Doctor by his arms, holding him down on the floor. The Doctor was too weak to struggle against it, but he wouldn't stop moaning and screaming.  
The Silurian knelt down beside him, polishing the syringe with a cloth.  
Which was definitely no way to disinfect a syringe.  
"As soon as the needle is disinfected we can begin."

Several hands were placed on his chest after the assistants of the surgeon had managed to take the clothes off the Doctor's weakened body. His head rolled into the nape of his neck and he stared at the ceiling, unable to move.

"After the harvesting of the foetal serum we'd like to take it as an opportunity that the laboratory creature is still sedated and fecundate it once more by artificial insemination. It would be an asset to perform one pregnancy after another, thus sparing the body the tedious procedure of trying to normalise itself and thereby reducing the body's responses to the changing hormone levels as well, such as the reducing of the abdominal girth etc. Personally I'd say it would be best if you made sure that the creature is kept pregnant all the time; that way it would become inured to its current hormone balance and it could be said that thereby you can spare further suffering. After all we'd like to treat our valuable creature with respect."

The Doctor faced the Silurian surgeon and met his gaze.  
The Doctor snarled and struggled helplessly against his assistants.

"I'm often asked why we're focussing on breeding one laboratory creature after another and not, for example, at least two at a time. I have to agree with those who consider it possible: I'm convinced that you could grow at least twice as much foetuses as we're trying to do right now."

Several assistants nodded their assent.

"But I have to remind you that captive breeding can't be compared to natural breeding; it puts a lot of stress on the creature and may cause unnatural behaviour. Therefore it's best to reduce the stress and breed one creature after another. It is expected that the laboratory creature's body will get accustomed to being gestate, thus ensuring the possibility of repeated harvesting of foetal serum over a long period. My motto is: One out, one in. Quality before quantity; quality before speed."

The Silurian surgeon looked the Doctor deeply in the eye.  
He moved closer and chuckled.

"And now...Watch and learn."


	15. Supremacy

The Doctor screamed as the metal was forced into his ribcage and tried to sit up.  
The straps made it impossible for him to move.  
He was on the operating table.  
Again.  
But he _was_ at the operating table. It would have been too much to say that he was relieved; but it was definitely better than still being inside of the enclosure.

"You seem to experience severe side-effects" explained the Silurian surgeon in front of him. He wore the chainmail gloves, like the last time. Silurian. Of course... he could have guessed that he was a Silurian because of his voice...

"And therefore I'm very sorry" added the Silurian and groped around inside of a box filled with medical gear. "Please try to relax."

The Doctor panted. He was put on a drip and felt the liquid trickling into his body through an infusion needle, which stuck in his hand, slowly. He hit his head while collapsing lifeless back onto the operating table.

"I'm sorry" muttered the Silurian surgeon, moved over and patted his forehead with his chain-mail glove carefully. "I wish I knew how I could make this more comfortable for you."

The Doctor tried to reply but found himself speechless. He must have been intubated again and couldn't produce more than a jarring shriek. His throat was sore. No, he had to correct himself, his throat was not only sore it felt as if someone had tried to wedge something long, hot and spiky down it to force it into his stomach. His eyes were sticky, making it hard for the Doctor to look at the room properly.

The Silurian surgeon sighed and patted him again. "I'm so sorry" he mumbled again "Next time I'd try it without the intubation."  
"Next time?!" mouthed the Doctor silently and raised his head again.

All sorts of medical gear were scattered around the room. To his own surprise the Doctor didn't feel any pain – though he noticed that his ribcage has been forced open and was currently rearranged; it could be said that some minor adjustments had taken place over the past, well the Doctor didn't know exactly but probably the last two hours or more. His stomach was nothing more than a gaping bloodstained hole whereof a meaty sphere protruded.

"It's the amniotic sac" explained the Silurian surgeon quietly while he grinded down some of the Doctor's ribs "I'd say you're lucky that you're able to see it yourself for real; but I know that you're unlucky just for being yourself."  
The Doctor's head sank back onto the operating table. He closed his glutinous eyelids, though he had to worry a bit about not ever being able to open them again. But due to the fact that the Silurian surgeon had already managed to cut holes and find cavities where the Doctor wouldn't have dared to even think about it...he wouldn't wonder if the surgeon would soon try to perform some 'minor adjustments' on his eyelids as well.

Why?, mouthed the Doctor voiceless, Why are you doing this to me?

"I'm sorry?" asked the Silurian surgeon and came closer, leaning over the weak Doctor who wouldn't manage to produce anything with his sore throat and dried lips but a quiet screech, no matter how hard he tried. The surgeon looked down at his lips and shook his head; he seemed deeply lugubrious. "I'm so sorry" he mumbled "I can't tell you why. HE has to tell you. HE wanted to be the messenger of bad news." "Bad news?" repeated the Doctor voiceless "What's the 'Bad news' then?"

"Anyway I'm feeling deeply ashamed for being forced into doing this" he explained quietly and moved back to the side, taking a look at the Doctor's interior and intestines.

Swoshing sounds filled the air and a tube got forced into the Doctor's anus again; two solid tubes stuck out of his cut open body, one out of the lower part of his ribcage, the other came forth from behind the amniotic sac. The Doctor winced as he felt a tepid liquid rushing through his body and scouring it out.

"But you know... you've got to make the best of it..." the Silurian surgeon turned his head towards the Doctor and saw tears filling his eyes; hurriedly the surgeon added "Not you of course, no. I was merely talking to myself, really. I've got to make the best of it."

The Doctor opened his eyes and squinted against the bright light above his head. The surgeon sighed and there was a deafening buzzing noise before he continued: "Unfortunately I don't know what kind of medication you needed. Currently I'm treating your harried body with a mixture of anti-inflammatory drugs for humans, painkillers and a local anaesthetic for Draconians and a drug containing cortisone which was originally developed for Judoons with sore muscles" he smiled faintly while turning his head towards the Doctor again.  
"But they seem to work wonders on your body. And it's the best I can do. Seriously, I'm at my wit's end. I've tried anything on you. And those are the medications with the best result... and the fewest side-effects..."

The Doctor felt his lids shutting again and tried to relax while the flexible tube in his anal region got forced deeper into his body. Fewest side-effects... if that was what has been causing those nightmares... the Doctor breathed in deeply to experience a stinging pain in his ribcage. The Silurian surgeon rushed over to his side and removed a small metal brace which had till now kept a flap of skin from sinking into the open wound.

"Please try to breathe flatly" pleaded the surgeon "It will spare you a lot of pain." "Pain?" mouthed the Doctor while the surgeon started working on the amniotic sac again.  
"PAIN?"

Lately it seemed that the Doctor's life consisted of nothing but pain and nightmares.

He sighed voiceless and felt tears welling up in his sticky eyes. His body felt disgusting. And he was sure that it looked nearly twice as disgusting as it felt.

"I swear I'm doing all I can" assured him the surgeon "and of course I know that it's a sin to treat you with medication that hadn't been devised for you. But that's the trouble with Time Lords: A highly developed race, really. Medical science, science, social systems, research and development... of the highest possible standards, all of them. But sadly their knowledge is lost for good... you're the only one left, Doctor. And I can't ask you for help. And even if you'd be able to tell me of what those meds consisted... I wouldn't be able to obtain it, would I?"

There was a long-drawn out sigh from the surgeon as he walked past the Doctor's head a few times. The Doctor sighed and turned his head to face the other way.

"I've had some serious reservations on administering you meds which could have questionable impacts on your body. But HE talked me into it. And so far they've worked alright. Perfectly alright, I'd say if only the deflexion on your chest hadn't started with it... I can't tell you what's causing it, really. And therefore I'm very sorry. But a bit of cortisone will do it, I'm sure. And sooner or later you're as good as new."

The Doctor sighed heavily and twitched. His back hurt and the pain from his ripped open abdomen was starting to spread through his body. The effect of the meds seemed to diminish and the Doctor could feel again. And he felt IT as well.

The foetus. The brat inside of his body. He clenched his fists unwillingly and gritted his teeth. The brat that had been forced into his body; the goddamn sprog which had been kept alive till now artificially by suppressing his body's natural attempts of cutting it off the blood circulation, isolating and in the end reabsorbing it. And he could do nothing but stare at its amniotic sac right now and wish IT had died right away after being inserted.

Two additional heartbeats. He felt two additional heartbeats and it made him furious.

The Silurian surgeon sighed and grabbed a syringe lying beneath him before administering anaesthetic with it again. The Doctor felt the warm fluid flush through his body and sacked back slowly. At least, he thought to himself, they seem to take effect rather fast.

His eyelids became heavier but he was soon awoken from his light slumber as he heard the creaking of a door. Beside him a door had been opened and uncertain footsteps approached.

The Silurian surgeon continued working with only taking a quick glance at the figure aside him once or twice before shaking his head. "Hasn't he forbidden you to enter my surgery?" the Silurian surgeon asked plainly. The figure beside him shrugged and moved from one foot to another, ignoring his comment for now. The figure had something about it that reminded the Doctor of... someone he'd known. Someone he'd known and loved.

The feminine silhouette walked around the operating table; it seemed to eye him up closely. There was something about its walk. It moved with a certain... hip swing, some special pelvic motion, it had the pelvic thrust of a girl, a young and beautiful girl...

The Doctor squinted against the bright light. And blonde hair. The figure had blonde hair too. He sighed quietly while shutting his lids. She had blonde hair.  
Just like Rose.

"Really, the Doctor thinks you shouldn't be seeing this" the Silurian surgeon shook his head quietly and inserted several flexible tubes into the Doctor's lower abdomen before performing a deep cut right under the gaping wound that had been his abdominal wall until an operation ago. The stinging pain caused the weak Doctor to flinch.  
The feminine figure beside him backed away in bewilderment. "Is it... awake?" she asked. The Doctor opened his eyes instantly and turned his head towards her, causing the poor girl beside him to gasp and flinch.

Rose's voice. She spoke with Rose's voice, he'd heard her loud and clear and he was sure of that, the delirious Doctor was sure that Rose was standing right beside him and she had talked, his Rose, she was here, with him, by his side while his... His head fell to one side and he had to close his eyes again. He was exhausted. He felt tired and worn out. But he couldn't fall asleep, he told himself, not now, not as long as Rose was around.

A quiet alarm somewhere in the room went off, causing the Silurian surgeon to attend the Doctor's side while humming before putting an oxygen mask over his face. The Doctor tried to shake his head but was at all unable to move. The damn medics worked. The damn medics worked damn well.

"Just a little something to prevent a circulatory collapse" explained the Silurian surgeon in a soothing voice to both the Doctor and the girl beside him.  
"Wr... Wrose... Wrooo..." the Doctor tried to call her by her name weakly but obviously failed. Tears formed in his eyes and he squinted at the bright light above him again.

"It's alive" concluded Rose "and it seems as if it is... awake..."  
"Can't prevent it from waking up all the time" sighed the surgeon "and the Doctor wouldn't be pleased to see this at all."  
"But the Doctor isn't here" chuckled Rose and followed the surgeon at every turn. She eyed up the cut open Doctor in front of her closely.

"What's that?" she asked innocently while pointing at the taped-together ribs. "They'd been filed off a bit" explained the Silurian surgeon quietly. Rose pulled a wry face and hid her hands behind her back. The Doctor couldn't stop but followed her with her eyes wearily.

"Why is it staring at me?" asked Rose while meeting the Doctor's gaze irritated  
"Doctor, why is it staring at me?" The Silurian surgeon sighed and moved her aside gently, speaking quietly again.  
"The Doctor wouldn't like the idea of you attending my surgeries. He'd wanted to spare you the sight of this... poor creature. This poor, poor, innocent creature." The Doctor closed his eyes again as tears trailed down his cheeks.

"What are you doing to him?" asked Rose unaware and put her head to one side. The surgeon sighed aloud.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you" he replied and explicated "I can't tell you mainly because you wouldn't understand if I'd talk to you about the adjustments and operations which had been performed or will take place at a later date..." The Doctor interrupted the Silurian surgeon by whimpering quietly. Rose stared at him appalled before following the surgeon's explanation with her mouth quite ajar.  
"And partially I can't tell you because the Doctor ordered me not to talk to you about anything concerning this matter and he forbade me to let you enter the surgery likewise." Rose nodded her ascent and watched the surgeon's actions quietly.

"What's that noise?" she asked all of a sudden and searched the ceiling if she'd manage to find an explanation there. "That's the sound of the pumps" stated the surgeon in a low voice "several liquids and drippings are forced in and out of the body of this poor..."  
"No" Rose interrupted him "I mean that constant noise... the humming... the sounds... sounds like distant chimes, doesn't it?"

The Silurian surgeon listened carefully for a moment; then it seemed to dawn on him. He folded his arms and sighed while cocking an eyebrow at Rose. "I perform the surgery – I listen to MY music" concluded the Silurian surgeon and tapped his arm in annoyance "There's nothing wrong with my music, mark my words, there's no accounting for taste for..."

It stopped. They simply stopped.  
The Doctor breathed in panic-stricken and shifted weakly.  
His hearts had stopped. Both for a moment; though for now one was working on restarting and picking up the pace again.

An alarm went off in the room and the Silurian surgeon rushed towards his head, reaching for his chest.

"That's... that's..." "Doctor, what's happening?" asked Rose uneasy and took a step backward while she couldn't take her eyes off the Doctor.  
"What's happening to it?"  
"His hearts are worn out" explained the surgeon quietly before meeting the weak and hollow gaze of the Doctor.  
"But don't worry, we'll get them started again. There's nothing to worry about. We take good care of you..."  
Rose stepped beside the surgeon and stared the Doctor right in the eye.

The alarm had stopped but the Doctor was still struggling helplessly in order to free himself.

Rose reached for his temples and placed her delicate fingers on them. She smiled soothingly.  
"Hey, don't be scared. He's the best surgeon in the world. And the whole universe, it seems. You won't die... he's taking good care of..."

The door behind her flung open and both Rose and the Silurian surgeon turned around in bewilderment.

"Don't touch it! Leave it alone!"

That Doctor shut his eyes inevitably but wouldn't manage to open them instantly.  
He was weakened. He was...

* * *


	16. Hysteria

"Doctor? Doctor where are you?"

The Doctor raised his head slowly only to realize that he was still suffering from a sore throat. He blinked at the bright light above him and squinted. He was in his library. He could tell by the feel of ripped pages beneath his head.

"Doctor? Doctor! Blimey, at first he keeps shouting after me and then... POOF, the Time Lord's gone, never to be seen again... Doctor! Can you hear me? Doctor!"

"Jack."  
The Doctor mumbled voiceless and rolled onto his stomach. His swollen stomach...  
He closed his eyes inevitably but forced them open on an instant. He didn't want to come back, no he never wanted to be on an operating table again, no, not ever again!  
He breathed in deeply and slowly lifted his body by pressing the palms of his hands against the paper covered floor. He managed to establish some kind of kneeling position, tried to balance his weight and supported himself with his hands still on the floor. He struggled for air and felt a stinging pain in his throat whenever he dared to swallow. He bit his lower lip and concentrated hard.

"I'm here, Jack" produced the Doctor with a small voice.

"Doctor?" There was shouting without and footsteps approaching before they dwindled slowly. "Where are you?"

It was hard for the Doctor to breathe. His lungs hurt. His upper part of the body hurt unimaginable... and he didn't even dare to think about the fact that his lower part of the body was still attached to him.  
It hurt... It hurt so much the Doctor couldn't even scream. His abdomen felt hot and was burning; He managed to sit on his hurting backside before taking a closer look at his stomach. The scars. The scars had come back; or new scars had currently formed on the same spot whereas the last time the small cuts had disappears within a few hours; the Doctor couldn't decide; but actually he didn't care.

Carefully he started picking at the brackets that kept the wounds shut and hissed in pain whenever he succeeded in removing one.

"Doctor where are you? Doctor!"

The Doctor had stopped replying. It was best if Jack wouldn't find him before he'd managed to get rid all of the artificial aids which were put there to keep his body from falling apart. He smirked before biting his lower lip as he started removing the stitches.  
As if he was some kind of human. An underdeveloped being that needed to be put together after some severe injuries because they wouldn't manage to heal themselves.  
Well, of course humans managed to repair their bodies themselves. But simply too slow; it was as if their bodies were mocking them.  
Wounds would close themselves but if you'd failed to disinfect them first you were in serious trouble.

The Doctor hissed between gritted teeth as he discovered several knots on a seam on which he kept pulling eagerly. No wonder it wouldn't budge. Someone had actually tried to tie the cut up properly in order to keep him from picking on the stitching. He smirked again.

Well, that wouldn't stop him.

The Doctor ripped the seam out of his body before tossing it aside. He'd winced and produced a muffled cry; like someone would yield if they'd opened a big fluffy pillow's covering before putting it over their head and pressing their hands against it.

The door behind the Doctor creaked and the Doctor spun around, still kneeling, to find Jack standing in the door frame. His face turned a strange colour, which couldn't be quite described as 'pale' due to his normal complexion; and green wouldn't work, either. Yet he looked as if his stomach had turned inside out and was currently working on digesting itself.

"Doctor..." he mumbled perplexed as he stared down at the Doctor's scar-covered skin. The Doctor sighed and put his shirt back on, shielding his injured body from Jack's greedy stares. Thereby he forced something small out of his breast pocket that would hit the floor with a quiet thud.  
Jack stepped forward uneasily.

The Doctor picked up the small box from the floor and lifted it slowly, staring at it unbelievably.  
He'd only wanted to return it to Jack.  
All he'd tried was running after him to give him the small box that seemed to be of inconceivable importance to him.

He sighed and threw it in his direction; Jack caught it quick-reacting.  
"You forgot your box, Jack," mumbled the Doctor quietly and closed his eyes, retrieving the images that had been burnt into his skull, the pain that he'd experienced and would never ever forget and the shame he'd felt after Rose had...

He opened his eyes again.  
Rose.  
He'd seen Rose, he was sure of that.  
Rose had been with the Silurian surgeon, she'd been by his side and watched his actions as he...

"Doctor, what in God's name has happened to you?" asked Jack while he helped the weak Doctor to get back on his feet again.  
"Not God, Jack" replied the Doctor sighing "in a Silurian's name. It was a Silurian, Jack."  
"Silurian?"

"Silurian, Jack. Blimey, what do you guys in Torchwood actually know? It's an alien, Jack, therefore you should know about it. No? Doesn't ring a bell? A Silurian? No Silurians, Jack? Nothing? A reptile-like humanoid race, spread across the universe in several military bases which I'll exterminate in a... what, a thousand years because they are a threat to... Oh Great, Jack. Good going, really, now I'm talking like a Dalek!"

"Doctor" mumbled Jack quietly "Doctor..."  
The Doctor sighed and tried to straighten up a bit. He pressed his hands against his back and groaned while experiencing unbearable pain in his pelvic area; he tried to cover it up by stretching and yawning.

"What took you so long?" asked the Doctor quietly "Why did you keep running round in my Tardis?"  
"The bathroom wasn't there anymore," replied Jack earnestly, "and I stumbled across several rooms before finding the right..."  
"Did any of those rooms by any chance include any kind of bed?" the Doctor asked quietly, hope resonating in his voice.  
Jack stared at him in bewilderment.  
"Doctor?"  
"In case you didn't get the hint, Jack: I'd like to lie down and have a short rest."

The Doctor collapsed into Jack's arms as he caught him quick-reacting.  
He'd passed out right after talking and was breathing heavily while Jack caressed his neck.

The Doctor opened his eyes to find Jack still by his side; he groaned and turned over in the bed.  
"You've slept a whole day," explained Jack honestly and put a tray down on the bedside table.  
The Doctor lifted his head a bit; he smelled tea.  
"Didn't feel like one," he mumbled and sat up as Jack handed him a small cup with a reeky liquid in it. "It's not chamomile, is it?"  
"I took whatever I found in my office," explained Jack and the Doctor looked around dumbfounded as he realized that he wasn't in his Tardis.  
He was even more surprised to find that he wasn't in Jack's office; he was lying a bed in a room that looked as if it belonged to a hospital; but it didn't. Beside the usual smell of germicide, disinfectant, the stench of plastic and cleaning agent was something else; the scent of other species.

The Doctor took a sip, his eyes fixed on Jack. He tasted contemplatively, moved the liquid around in his mouth before deciding on swallowing; he figured it would have been awfully impolite to let the liquid dribble back into the cup from his mouth; and maybe the aftertaste wasn't as bad as the current one.

He swallowed. Well, the aftertaste wasn't as bad.  
It was worse.

The Doctor shook his head and eyed up the cup suspiciously.

"And, what it is?" asked Jack  
The Doctor shrugged.  
"What does it taste like?" probed Jack.  
"I doubt that there are words in the human language to describe that taste," explained the Doctor and took another sip.  
He coughed and hit his chest to keep himself from choking.  
"Are you even sure this is tea, Jack?" asked the Doctor and gave him a doubtful glance.

Jack didn't know what to respond.  
"I mean you didn't find it in one of your desk drawers in a small plastic bag where it said: "Pending check for alien traces", did you? And you wouldn't put that in a teapot and pour in some boiling water, would you? Would you, Jack?"

Jack shifted a bit uneasy.

"Well, to be honest, we're reusing the bags were it says "Pending check for alien traces", but I can assure you that it's definitely tea you're currently drinking because I remember buying it," Jack reassured him as the Doctor raised the cup and slurped quietly, adding in a lower voice, "But I can't swear in which millennium I bought that."

"Millennia don't matter to me," replied the Doctor, "I just don't want this to be the withered bits of some sort of 'Sea Devil' aliens that were meant to be stored in a safe place. Well, I guess a 'Sea Devil' would taste a lot different..." he smacked his lips and considered it again.  
"No, it's definitely a bit more green... it tastes somewhat green..."

"Doctor, I swear to you, it didn't belong to any kind of alien" Jack tried to convince him.

The Doctor stared at the brown liquid; Jack sighed.

"The colour's a bit rusty, could have been some corroded spare parts of a Dalek..." his eyes met Jack's and he smiled, "Well, I sure hope it won't try to exterminate me from the inside." He chuckled. Jack shook his head and refilled the cup.

"I wouldn't be too sure that it wasn't poisonous," he sighed "at least by judging by the way you're acting."

"Well, if it isn't alien and it's not poisonous than it must be drugs, isn't it Jack?"  
Jack rolled his eyes. "They're stored elsewhere."

The Doctor shook his head and swallowed.  
"Well, at least I hope those weren't the last remains of a dried alien race I just now extinct by swallowing up."  
"Maybe they'll start forming a new basis of existence inside of your stomach" Jack chuckled.

The cup smashed noisily on the floor.

Jack stared abashed at the Doctor who retorted a shocked stare himself.  
"I'm sorry," he muttered and stared down at the scattered porcelain splinters "I... I didn't mean to..."  
"Don't worry, I came prepared," explained Jack and left the room for a moment, continuing from the outside, "I've got plenty more cups for you to smash."

When he entered the room again the Doctor was kneeling on the floor, moving the smithereens with his hands and pushing them together carefully. Jack sighed and grabbed the Doctor gently by the shoulder.  
"You don't have to do that," he explained, "I can take care of it later on. And it wasn't your fault. You're sick, you're weak..."  
"I'm sorry, Jack," the Doctor kept on muttering "I'm so sorry Jack."

"Doctor you're talking as if you hadn't accidently broken a piece of my grandmother's tea set but killed my grandmother instead."  
Jack patted him on the back and sighed. "Come on, you need to get back into bed."  
He hauled him back onto the sheets and covered his body carefully with a light blanket.

Jack sighed and took a closer look at the cup in his hands. He examined the 'lilien porcelain' and shook his head. "Never had much taste, the old lady. Well, I shouldn't talk about her being old right now. She's not even born yet. There are still a lot of decades to come, aren't they, Doctor?"

The Doctor wouldn't reply; Jack felt that this was an occasion to be serious.  
He felt that the Doctor wanted to talk about something;  
He knew that he wanted to talk with him earnestly.  
The only hindrance seemed to be a verbal matter; the Doctor must be still searching for the right words, Jack told himself.

"Something terrible has happened, hasn't it?" asked the Doctor and stared into space, figuratively of course, because someone had dared to drag him out of his Tardis.  
"You tell me," sighed Jack and folded his arms before placing the empty cup on the bedside table. The Doctor's eyes stopped fixedly on the delicate porcelain.

"Won't you ever break your silence?" asked Jack firmly.  
"Why aren't I in your office?" the Doctor counter-questioned.  
Jack owed him an explanation and sighed.

"There must be something severely wrong with me if you prefer putting me in a proper bed instead of shoving me down onto your writing desk," the Doctor went on and Jack met his gaze; the Doctor's expression was cold, his face seemed frozen and due to the fact that the Doctor didn't even blink Jack had to struggle against an inner urge to feel his pulse to make sure that the Doctor was still alive.

He didn't look very vital, either.  
The Doctor looked weary.

Jack sighed again and sat down on the bed beside the Doctor.  
"After I've caught a glimpse of your injuries I decided it was best for you to come with ..." he began but was cut off by the Doctor instantly,  
"Oh great, here we go again, Jack. What do you do when you find an injured alien? Call the police? Call an ambulance? No, call Torchwood! They'll shield it from the rest of the world, isolate it and defang it as soon as possible. And may I ask: When is the autopsy, Jack? Or are you going to perform several painful and yet unnecessary operations on me before you're performing an autopsy?"

"Looks like if someone had already done that on behalf of us," snapped Jack.

The Doctor stared at him shocked and in horrified silence.

Jack was the first one to find his voice again.  
He tried to remain steady though it felt quite unpleasant knowing that he had hurt the Doctor definitely more than necessary.

"You should have told me Doctor," he tried to establish eye-contact with the Doctor,  
"You really should have told me."


	17. Yes Please

"I want tea."  
"I'm going to give it to you as soon as possible, Doctor."  
"You're currently investigating how long I can survive without food or water, aren't you?"  
"No, Doctor, I'm only taking a blood sample. And after that I'm going to run a physical performance test in order to exclude food intolerances or possible allergies. Therefore I've already asked you for having a little patience."  
"Has it ever occurred to you that I might not be very comfortable with having a so-called Doctor sticking needles into my body, injecting dubious remedies which probably haven't been tested on either humans or animals, and putting me on an IV while the only thing that I was asking for was a cup of tea?"

Martha folded her arms.  
"Not to speak of the catheterization..." hissed the Doctor and folded his arms likewise after retorting a huffed glare. Martha rolled her eyes and sighed.  
"I'm not a so-called doctor, I'm a physician, Doctor," she replied snappish.  
"By human standards," growled the Doctor.  
Martha sighed again in annoyance and started fumbling with a small flexible tube  
"And your catheter needs to be replaced."

"Oh great, here we go again" the Doctor sighed and rested his head on the cushion as Martha pushed back the sheet.  
"I've treated hamsters that had more patience than you," mumbled Martha quietly as she inserted a sterile plastic tube into the Doctors urethra.  
The Doctor hissed in pain. "Like I said, Martha: Physician by human standards. Treating hamsters and Time Lords equally."  
"Shut up" chuckled Martha.  
She removed the Doctor's garment to take a look at his chest.

"Why are you even here?" asked the Doctor quietly as Martha put him on another IV. "Mh?" she replied without listening. "You're not part of those alien-chasing-species-eliminating-gun-loving-sex-toys of Captain Jack Harkness, are you?"  
The Doctor had managed to get Martha's attention; she stared at him with her jaw dropped, wondering if he'd actually just said what she'd heard.  
She mouthed the word 'sex toy' unbelievingly over and over again before muttering: "I'm... no, I..."  
Then she chuckled and smiled at him and raised her eyebrows: "Well, what do you think?"

"I think you've pushed the flexible tube a bit too enthusiastic in," replied the Doctor and shifted uneasily. Martha looked down to spot the blood dripping into the catheter bag. She adjusted the catheter once more hurriedly and retorted a sheepish grin.

"Sorry," she hissed through gritted teeth.  
"But I guess it's my own fault, isn't it?" asked the Doctor "I keep distracting you with my lamentations."  
The Doctor let out a long drawn-out sigh and shook his head.

Martha sat down on the bed beside him and sighed several times, as if she was searching for the right words to tell him that there was probably something bad going to happen to him... though the Doctor wouldn't have believed her if she had told him that it could get worse... well, eventually she managed to face the Doctor earnestly.

"Jack asked me to keep an eye at you," she explained in a low voice "He said you'd need medical assistance. He even paid for my flight himself."  
"Bloody Torchwood," mumbled the Doctor "Another fine exhibit for throwing money down the drain."  
"I would have come either way," Martha cut in.  
She touched one of the Doctor's hands gently.  
The Doctor stared at her fingers as she stroked the palm of his hands.  
"Because I knew that this was serious. And I don't want you to interrupt or contradict me. I mean it. Jack's voice on the phone... he sounded..."

"Disturbed? Frightened? Scared? At his wits end?" suggested the Doctor and growled under his breath.  
"Uncertain," explained Martha "And Jack is never uncertain about anything in his life."  
The Doctor nodded before interjecting: "Except maybe what to wear and which bodily cavity to try first."

Martha stared at him with disbelieving eyes before bursting out laughing. The Doctor chuckled quietly.  
"He has trouble deciding on those things?" Martha giggled "Like: a(nal) before c(unt) except after o(ral)?"

The Doctor's jaw dropped; when he'd found the decency to close his moth again he added:  
"Ms Jones, your behaviour appals me! I thought I had taught you a few manners."  
"What? Doctor, we're in Torchwood. I thought you'd expect cheap and dirty jokes."  
The Doctor nodded his ascent and chuckled: "I guess you're right. That's prerequisite for the job."

Both of them ended up laughing like mad as the Doctor added: "Torchwood. If it's alien it belongs to us. We ensure that we'll keep it locked up properly... and give it a good spanking from time to time..."

Martha shook her head. "You've never talked about kinky stuff, have you? What is it with you all of a sudden, Doctor? What's been loosening you up?"  
"Jack" replied the Doctor "and actually I shouldn't be telling you this. I promised Jack that I wouldn't tell anyone about our sex life or his techniques of loosening me up."

"Eew, gross!" Martha burst out laughing again.  
She calmed a bit down before adding, "And that wasn't what I meant."

The Doctor sighed and rested his head on the pillow. It was so good to find peace and calmness in a bed for once in a while. It was a relief not being forced onto an operating table and being strapped down before someone started rummaging through...

The Doctor flinched as Martha touched his hands again. She backed away irritated.  
"Sorry," she mumbled "Did I...hurt you?" Judging by the low tone in her voice it was more a reproach than actually a question.

"My skin's a bit dry and itchy. Can't tell you what caused it, really. Might have something to do with wrong medication, you know, side effects or adverse reactions, wrong dose and probably even wrong protein-base of medicaments. But search me."

Martha took a closer look at the rash on his chest again.

" Lately I'm going tingly all over my body," concluded the Doctor and sighed again.  
"Oh, that's no side effect, that's simply Jack," added Martha and smiled again before buttoning up the Doctor's shirt and patting the mattress beside him uneasily.

She was still fiddling with the bad news, the Doctor mused. Whatever they could have been. Sadly it wasn't a relief to know that they wouldn't make him feel any worse.  
It couldn't get worse. It simply couldn't.  
He felt as if he had already hit rock bottom weeks ago and still _they_ tried to dig deeper and deeper...

The Doctor flinched.

He wouldn't even bother thinking about the Silurian surgeon anymore. He had stopped caring. All he wanted was to make sure that he wouldn't lay hands on him again; or at least as long as he was asleep, as long as he wouldn't notice it.  
He had tried to convince himself that Rose had only been an illusion he had imagined due to his good-naturedness because he couldn't get his head around the fact that sometimes things happened without a reason.  
That they simply happened; and just bad things without good things to follow.  
Simple, no reasoned bad things you couldn't do anything against.

He was far too optimistic to believe any of that.  
And he knew that knowing that Rose had attended his mutilation would have only made things worse.  
The Doctor figured it was time for some good news after all.  
So he ignored it. He lied to himself, crossing Rose beside the operating table out of his memories.  
And he had to admit: Didn't work that bad.  
If only he could forget about the torture, and the torment and the brat inside of his body...

A clenched fist hit his lower abdomen unintentionally, causing him to double over. The Doctor spat beside the bed and bit his lower lip.  
His mind was a mess and he knew it.

His mind had become a mess as...

He didn't even want to think about it. He didn't even want to think, at all. He was far from his Tardis, Jack probably wouldn't let him come near her ever again, his screwdriver had been taken from him, the meds he had been injected with seemed to cause both red hot burning anger and black despair at the same time.  
Had he been female and a human teenager he would have said that he had been on an emotional rollercoaster ride; but he wasn't and therefore he wouldn't. Besides it wouldn't have been remotely appropriate.

It could have been described more as kayaking down a waterfall on a bag filled with coconuts... the Doctor frowned at his own imagination and shook his head.  
Those ideas were probably part of a side effect, too.  
Or Martha had switched to a rather lovely hair conditioner which reminded him of coconuts.

The Doctor shrugged and stared at Martha, who was still evading his gaze while searching for the right words.  
But she was so wrong. There aren't any wrong words or right words.  
There's just words.

And the worst you can do is not to speak up at all...

"I have constant headaches," explained the Doctor; Martha blinked at him

He tried making it a bit easier for her by starting with his symptoms.  
And he had to admit that his patience had seen better days; he felt rather twitchy and knew that sooner or later the tears would start filling his eyes or he would howl in rage.

And he was hoping that he made sense at least to himself.

"When did they start?" asked Martha and moved closer, extracting a stethoscope from her coat pocket.  
"I can't remember," replied the Doctor quietly and dug his nails into the mattress.  
He was quiet unpleased with Martha pressing the metal chest piece against his bare skin. Martha knew about two hearts inside of his body. But not about four...

Martha furrowed her brows and moved over the same spot again.  
The Doctor gritted his teeth.

"Really, I can't remember, Martha," he repeated as if she hadn't heard him.  
She popped the earpieces out of her ears and glared at him.  
"Doctor, it's rather hard examining you when you keep talking. I can't understand a word you're saying because of the constant noises from your hearts, but I can't hear your hearts properly as long as you're talking to me. One at a time, please!"

She picked up the stethoscope again and adjusted it once more.

"Not knowing when his symptoms had started..." mumbled Martha while mocking the Doctor quietly "Calls himself a Time Lord and doesn't know anything about time."  
"Martha, it may not appear to you like this but time is more than hours, days and months..." hissed the Doctor between gritted teeth.  
"Well, I thought you were supposed to tell time, not to tell me about time," replied Martha and sat up again.  
"I'm a superior race, Martha" snapped the Doctor and leaned back in his bed once more, trying to get used to the feeling of Martha palpating his chest "Not a bloody clock."  
"Will you shut it, for a moment?" Martha snapped all of a sudden. The Doctor folded his arms and cocked an eyebrow at her.  
"Seriously Doctor, would you be so kind as to stop talking for a moment? I've heard something... I think I'm on to something..."

"You could be right about that," the Doctor breathed out slowly and dug his nails into his skin.

Martha listened for quite a while.  
The Doctor breathed in deeply, his chest moving clearly visible.

Martha laid the stethoscope aside and stared at the Doctor thoughtfully.  
All the Doctor needed to see was the baffled expression on her face... and he knew.

"It isn't...?" Martha began.  
"Yes, it is," the Doctor cut her off.  
"But you're not..."  
"No, I'm not but it's theoretically possible."  
"But you couldn't..."  
"Why shouldn't I?"  
"But if..."  
"If what?"  
"I mean that's..."  
"It's weird, I know. Look, can we stop talking about it?" interrupted the Doctor.  
"What are you talking about?" asked Martha irritated.  
"Depends on what you were talking about," retorted the Doctor instantly.

Martha shook her head and thought about it for a moment, probably trying to get her mind back into the proper order.

"We haven't even started talking yet."  
"Yes, but I think we're done here nonetheless," stated the Doctor firmly.  
"You've never been so bad tempered in your life ever before," mumbled Martha and got to her feet again.

"You don't even know me that long," snapped the Doctor "You don't know anything about me, Miss Jones. And I don't quite see the point in talking to you. Jack was wrong, you shouldn't have come to see me; you're causing nothing but trouble, as always. You've been complaining about my rash, my bad blood test results, you've stuck needles into my bladder, put me on an IV, you called me a hamster, a clock and whatsoever, and I've had enough of this. I didn't want to talk to Jack and neither do I want to talk to you. Do you understand that, Miss Jones? I don't want to talk to you. I don't know what about I should talk to you."

"About the child in your body," Martha blurted out.

The Doctor breathed in deeply and pressed his folded arms deeper into his chest.


	18. Sober

"Of course, about the child, we could talk about the child," mumbled the Doctor while coming back to his senses again.  
It was of no use and he knew it.  
He'd rather tell Martha than Jack.  
And Martha knew it anyway.

"You heard the two small heartbeats," concluded the Doctor but Martha shook her head.  
"Doctor, I know you. Maybe not for quite so long, but I know you. I don't think it takes all the time of your life to get to know a Time Lord..."  
"Alright, stop that" interrupted the Doctor "I may put up with talking about that brat, but not with you making jokes about me. I've had enough of this."  
Martha nodded quietly.

"...and I know you quite well enough to know that it's only because Jack keeps bugging you with Time Lord jokes" chuckled Martha.  
The Doctor looked up to meet her warming gaze.

"I knew that there was something wrong with you when I first caught a glimpse of you, Doctor," explained Martha, "and I knew that you didn't want to be treated; I knew that you were trying to hide it from me."  
" _IT_ is quite the word..." mumbled the Doctor and Martha patted one of his hands.

Silence filled the room.

"So, how long do I have?" asked the Doctor a bit worried.  
"How long do you have what?" asked Martha back.  
"Until the...ch...child..." the Doctor pushed himself into using the word for once without even thinking about 'brat'.  
"Well, I'm sorry Doctor, but how should I know? You keep telling me you're a superior race..."  
"...but apparently my body isn't see-through, so I won't know either," added the Doctor.

"I'm sorry" Martha gave it another try "but... how long does a Time Lord usually take until it's finished?"  
"Martha you're talking about an unborn Time Lord if it was some kind of frozen dinner you just have to shove in the oven until its... which is rather disgusting when you come to think about it. Great Martha, I won't be eating pizza in my life ever again. And I'm sure glad you tried to starve me because otherwise I would be throwing up right now."  
The Doctor pressed one hand against his stomach.  
"But if you're unlucky there's still some gastric acid left. And due to the fact that I hadn't been drinking anything for the past day it should be highly concentrated and therefore would definitely vitriolize my throat."

"How about gastric acid inhibitors?" Martha started fumbling in her pockets "I have some of them with me, always."  
The Doctor eyed them up suspiciously as Martha handed him some small pills.

"They won't bite you" explained Martha and let them drop into the Doctor's hand. He cleared his throat and looked at them for quite a while before lifting his head a bit and asking: "Can I have some tea with them?"

"Tea, tea, tea!" snapped Martha and got up again "It's all you're currently thinking about, isn't it?"  
"What, would you prefer it if I kept talking about Jack?" asked the Doctor as Martha left the room to return with a thermos flask in the one hand and a small cup in the other.

"Jack switched to plastic lately," explained Martha while placing the cup on the bedside table and pouring in some of the hot liquid from the flask "he told me about some incident."  
"I smashed one of his grandmother's cups" replied the Doctor and sighed "And he told me he wouldn't make a fuss about it."

The Doctor waited fretful beside Martha until she would hand him the cup.

"What is it with Time Lords and tea?" she asked and placed her hands on her hips.  
"It's not about Time Lords and tea, that's simply me and tea" explained the Doctor after taking a sip.  
Martha pushed the hand in which the Doctor held the pills towards his mouth.  
He gave them a disbelieving look.  
"You promise me they won't do me any harm?" asked the Doctor.  
"I promise" replied Martha.  
"They won't have a bad impact on the rash?"  
"No."  
"They won't make me dizzy?"  
"No."  
"They won't burn me up from the inside?" the Doctor asked anxiously.

"No!" replied Martha unnerved "Just take your meds and shut it!"  
The Doctor sighed and put them on his tongue, shifting them around uneasily in his mouth before deciding to swallow.  
He pulled a wry face.

"Burn up..." repeated Martha and folded her arms in front of her chest. "I may be familiar with 'burn-out' as a symptom but I have never heard of 'burn-up'."  
"Depends on how you treat your patients," replied the Doctor and shifted a bit uneasy. "Can't you give me anything against the pain?"

"Oh, no" replied Martha "No, no, no, you're making a fuss about everything. And I'm sorry, but I can't help you, I don't know what to give a Time Lord."

"You could go to my Tardis and fetch me some of the pills," suggested the Doctor.

"You've got medicine in your Tardis?" asked Martha baffled.  
"Of course. Never take a trip without a medicine cabinet and a first-aid kit."  
"And where do I find them?" Martha went on.  
The Doctor patted his chest to find that he wasn't wearing his usual shirt. Martha got the hint and rummaged through the Doctor's clothes until discovering a small key in the Doctor's shirt's breast pocket.  
"If you go to my Tardis... if only I could remember where I parked it..."

"It's in the subbasement" explained Martha.

"Alright, now listen carefully. You unlock the Tardis and go downstairs, you head for subbasement four. You should find a small cabinet... alright, you should find several small cabinets but only in one of them you can find the meds. The others are simply stuffed with old things... probably trophies or whatever..."  
Martha gave him a disbelieving look.

"Just look into the one with the green moon on the side. Green moon is the sign of a hospital in some... decades, centuries, I don't know..."  
"And it's got a green moon on the side because it used to belong to a hospital," concluded Martha.  
"Just bring me anything you can find in it," replied the Doctor and took another sip of his tea.  
"Right."

The Doctor had just helped himself to some more tea as Martha stormed into the room again; she carried several bottles of different sizes in her hands as well as something that looked rather small and fluffy.

"That's all?" asked the Doctor while putting the cup aside.  
"Definitely all," replied Martha and sighed while dropping the bottles onto the bed "seven bottles, half of them nearly empty and a dead rat."  
"Oh, don't say that" the Doctor nearly cut her off, "It's neither a rat nor is it dead. It's sleeping."  
Martha backed away from the bed as the Doctor grabbed the small ball of fur and stroked it carefully.  
"It's always sleeping."  
The Doctor sighed and stroked the small creature lost in thought.

"What is that?" asked Martha a bit irritated and started rummaging through the drawers of the bedside table, possibly looking for a bag with the "Pending check for alien traces" imprint, the Doctor thought for a moment and held out his right hand as some kind of a warning gesture.

"No, don't touch it. That's none of your business. It won't do you any harm and it was a gift."  
"But it could be contagious" countered Martha.  
"Especially then you shouldn't touch it" replied the Doctor "and don't come near it. I don't like the look in your eyes. And it can be easily upset... if it is awake... if it happens to be awake..."  
Martha wouldn't dare to move an inch and stared at the striped ball of fur.

"It was a gift?" Martha asked to pick up the conversation again.  
"A friend gave it to me" replied the Doctor quietly and looked up; Martha could have sworn that she had seen grief flickering in his hazel eyes before he continued in his usual cheery voice "but it had always been much of a sleeper; it was thought to be a secret invention for the Time War. Small furry animals as sleepers. You know, looking innocently but when you push the right button: 'BOOM'..." he tossed the ball of fur in the air and Martha took a step back.

The Doctor laughed at seeing the fear in her eyes and patted the small creature which had landed on the sheets.  
"But it turned out that all they could be useful for was actually sleeping."

"That's a weapon?" asked Martha and stayed where she was; she felt quite comfortable near the door, just in case the fuzzy thing was an UXO.

"It would have been" explained the Doctor "but they weren't manufactured in series; and that one's missing the detonator. Or at least I haven't found it so far. No, it must be missing the detonator. Otherwise why should he have given it to me?"

"You said a friend gave it to you..." repeated Martha and cocked an eyebrow at the Doctor.  
"Yes, of course, he had worked in the factory and explained that they weren't going to continue them. He swore it wouldn't do me any harm and that I should always keep it close to me and that it liked to be stroked at the belly and that you could press down on it firmly..."

The Doctor's voice trailed off; he eyed up the fuzzy thing that was purring gently.  
Martha took a step back again.

"Oh, he's going to pay for that," mumbled the Doctor and poked the small creature all around its body several times, punching it in the belly and waited for a moment.  
"Giving me a 'paneopal puffy' that's still armed..."  
The ball of fur showed no sign of exploding in the near future, like starting to glow or going 'beepbeepbeep' all the time;  
eventually the Doctor shrugged.

Martha had held her breath and enjoyed breathing out deeply. She also enjoyed breathing quite a lot, when she came to think about it right now, and living, and knowing that she wouldn't be killed by the Doctor's hand because he had to find out if something that had been lying around in the Tardis for centuries was still able to detonate.

Martha breathed in deeply before picking up the conversation again. "You said it was a living thing." stated Martha and dared to come closer again.  
The Doctor nodded and fondled the ball of fur carefully.

"And how do you know that it's still alive? It didn't even move when you punched it."

The Doctor pressed one ear against the small creature and listened carefully. Then he stroked it at the back of its neck.  
He signalized Martha to take it in her hands but she refused to touch it.  
"It's still breathing," explained the Doctor "You can hear the humming of its hearts."

"Is it a creature or a weapon?"  
Martha didn't quite seem to get the hang of it.  
The Doctor sighed.  
"Both. It's an animal as well as a time bomb."  
Martha gasped.  
"Not this one, of course. I told you it's deactivated." The Doctor was in a huff "Martha you're a bit slow today, aren't you?"  
"How can this be an animal and an explosive device at the same time?" she asked "How is it possible to manufacture animals?"

"Time Lord technology" explained the Doctor "And believe me, you don't want to know about it. But actually... it's not that hard to understand."  
He faced Martha again.

"Look at you, Martha."

Martha followed the Doctor's instruction irritated and stared down at her boots before catching a glimpse of the fire burning in the Doctor's eyes as he eyed her up.  
"You're a soldier but a human being at the same time. Tell me, what's the difference?"

"I wasn't created to be a weapon," Martha replied as quickly as always "and I'm not small and furry and cute so that someone may mistake me for a pet."  
"Good point there," replied the Doctor and refilled his cup. He tossed the creature aside which yawned quietly before putting its feet up, a total of six feet. The Doctor chuckled while running his fingers through its fur.  
"Haven't heard it making that sounds in four hundred years," he smiled.

"How old is that thing?" asked Martha and poked it gently.  
"Nearly as old as me," replied the Doctor and looked through the bottles.  
Well, he sure had a bad handwriting and the circles looked terrible...

But some of them had to be painkillers, he was sure of that He just didn't know which ones.  
He tossed a bottle aside.  
But he wasn't as mad as Dr. Neakahla* to try that out on himself.

The Doctor fumbled with one of the caps and looked inside it. The meds had changed and greyish fume emerged from it which told the Doctor to seal it as quickly as possible and probably get rid of it in the near future.

He deciphered one of the captions and opened a promising bottle.  
But he found it to be empty.

"Great," he hissed quietly and hoped that Martha wouldn't notice because she was still distracted by the ball of fur, "the last of them gone. I thought I'd refill them when I got to the last ten..."  
He stopped in mid sentence and his eyes opened wide.  
He couldn't remember taking them.  
In fact he knew that he needed them and had always made sure that he wouldn't use them up.  
But they had been taken from him.

 _They_ must have taken the pills from him.

Which meant that _they_ now had the last remaining sedatives for Time Lords in the universe.

Martha looked up as a tremor spread through the Doctor's body.  
"Doctor?"  
"No...!"  
"Doctor?" Martha repeated and took a closer look at his widening pupils.  
"...but... if they have... I don't want them to... I won't even...no, they can't...!"  
"Doctor, listen to me!" Martha grabbed the Doctor by his shoulders and shook him gently "Doctor, what's going on? What does that mean?"

"It means that _they're_ going to come back. And I won't even notice it."

* * *

* Dr. Neakahla had been a Time Lord surgeon who was known to be the greatest surgeon (due to his immense height of 6'8) and the best surgeon of all times in the whole universe (due to his abilities of travelling through time and space). He died as he lived, investigating on the meaning of life, life itself and how you might be able to end it.  
It was simply bound to happen one day.


	19. Shrinking Universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much action, mainly dialogue in this chapter (but rather funny dialogue)...

"What do you mean, you 'won't notice'?"  
The Doctor had folded his arms and wouldn't budge from his current sulky position. He wouldn't budge at all, not even after Martha had poked him gently in the ribs.  
But Martha pegged away with it.

"Who are _they_?"  
"I don't know" replied the Doctor through gritted teeth.  
"Well, what did _they_ do to you?" Martha went on.

"I won't tell you," mumbled the Doctor and stared into space. Figuratively, not literally. After all they were still in Torchwood.  
Well, and even though Cardiff had lots of similarities with space (lots of dark places, dull ambience, inhabitants who speak English you can hardly understand...) the Doctor knew that he rather would have been in space right now, outside of his Tardis and slowly choking, or with his head exploding, than having to face a nosy Martha in front of him.

Martha folded her arms likewise and gave the Doctor an annoyed glare.  
"I don't do staring contests, Martha Jones" mumbled the Doctor "and you're rather annoying right now. Do something useful and put the meds back where they belong."

The Doctor tossed the bottles in front of him around on his bed. Martha cocked an eyebrow at him and sat down on his bed rather dramatically.  
"I won't move, I won't disappear, I won't simply vanish; you won't believe it but apparently I have more patience then you have right now, Doctor, so I'll tell you this: I'll stay here, right beside your bed, on the same spot, until you tell me what's happened to you and who _they_ are and what's the meaning of all this and oh my God, what is it doing?!"

Martha had interrupted her lecture and jumped up as the small ball of fur had started moving; it was tossing and turning and rummaging through the bottles it had been crowded with. The Doctor sighed and stretched his legs; he kicked the thing gingerly until it would stop shifting on the sheet.  
"It's tossing and turning in its sleep, that's all," he explained unnerved, "I told you, it's unarmed, in the worst case it's an UXO, but I'd rather believe that this is simply a fluffy and useless creature and nothing more; but I guess you came to notice that it isn't sleeping well in the bright artificial light so would you be so kind as to return it to the Tardis?"

The Doctor's voice was cold and unmoved. His arms were obviously tensed as he folded them again in front of his chest. Martha eyed him up with wondering eyes until she felt her stare sagging...  
She gave it another thought. Even though Doctor sometimes seemed as though he was cracking up he wasn't hard to crack, at least it had never been hard for Martha to get him to tell her what she had wanted to hear. But maybe she had lost her touch; maybe her sensitivity had been locked up for too long now that she didn't know anymore how to handle him.

Martha closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.  
Just a cool head; that was all she needed. Her intuition had never let her down; and especially while being at her wits end, as she was right now, it was probably best just to listen, just to wait... and maybe that was the answer, even with the Doctor.  
She popped her head to one side as if listening to an inner voice.  
Or at least as if she had waited for an inner voice to appear and address her.

"Are you alright?" asked the Doctor and reached for Martha's hand.  
Martha nearly jumped after touching the Doctor's hands. For a moment there she had been really scared that her subconsciousness had actually talked to her.  
Martha found the Doctor staring at her and smiled taken aback and nodded.  
The Doctor eyed her up suspiciously.

Martha sat down once again beside the Doctor and yet tried to stay out of the paneopal puffy's reach.  
She had sensed the Doctor's desperation. And Martha had felt that the Doctor had wanted to talk to her about something right from the beginning.  
But somehow both of them seemed to fail at finding the right words.  
But at least Martha found her voice again first.

She simply thought it best to start over the conversation from the point where it had gone wrong. After all there was a Time Lord sitting in front of her with the attention span of a drunken squirrel in a bag full of nuts.

"Who are _they_?"

The Doctor shifted a bit uneasy and sighed. "Martha, I don't know. And I didn't say that because I tried avoiding the question. I really don't know. After several operations... or whatever they had been... I had been able to identify one of them as a Silurian, a Silurian surgeon. But apart from that... I don't know. I don't know why _they_ 're here, I don't know what _they_ want and I can't even tell you what _they_ look like. All lizards look alike to me."

Martha reached for the Doctor's hand and patted it gently. The Doctor looked up to her and chuckled quietly.  
He surely was trying to take his mind off things again.

"I know... that's kinda racists, isn't it?" he chuckled.  
"Probably," replied Martha, "but a... Siluran... no, Silurian... I haven't heard of them before."  
"Working for Torchwood and haven't heard of a Silurian either," mumbled the Doctor through gritted teeth, "This new Torchwood, what good is it anyway?"

"Jack never mentioned a Silurian," explained Martha.  
"Right, that's because Jack is an idiot. And it appears that the only one who's seen it is me. Because Jack had the tendency to go missing right before _they_ would... well, shove me out of the Tardis, or wherever _they_ took me... I don't know..."

"What do you mean?" asked Martha "Do you think... do you believe that _they_ can hide in the Tardis?"  
"Almost anything could be hid inside of a Tardis," sighed the Doctor "You know...that's the trouble with being bigger..."  
"...on the inside," finished Martha and nodded "I know, I know."

"But I guess it had its advantages," the Doctor went on and reached down with one hand to poke the small bulge his abdomen had become, unnerved, "Then again you're not forced to watch your body become disfigured and deformed."

Martha fumbled with the bottles beside her while staring at her feet.  
"This child..." she began.  
"The brat" the Doctor cut her off and snorted.  
"...it's... what is... I mean, I haven't..."

The Doctor sighed. "Just ask straightforward. I can't stand watching my catheter bag filling up and slowly spilling over while you're still searching for the wrong words. You have me where you wanted me to have, Ms Jones; I'll gladly answer your questions so we can get on with this."

Martha had to chuckle quietly. A little patience had always paid off; whether it was about a cripplingly shy patient, or asking someone who met you with disgust for a date; in the end gritting your teeth and patience were the only two true possibilities. Well... at least almost always.  
Sometimes it was simply best to annoy people; that worked a lot faster than having patience and all.

Martha grabbed the Doctor's hands and looked him in the eye earnestly.  
"The child," she started over again.  
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "We've had that before" he explained "You said 'child' I said 'brat' and then you started mumbling and I reassured you that you can ask me anything you want. But you know what? It's probably better if you don't ask. You're a fine listener, Martha Jones, but a terrible questioner. So yes, that's a living thing inside of my body. And no, Jack doesn't know about it. And yes, it was inserted by them, and no, I don't know how. And yes, I'm going to keep it, but no, it's not because I chose to keep it but it's because I know that if I don't obey their commands they're going to repeat the whole procedure and I'm not interested in having my ribs ground down and my pelvis broken and coalesced again."

The Doctor breathed in deeply and sagged back into the cushion.  
Martha stroked his hands unintentionally; she stared into space while picturing it in her mind... what did it actually sound like when you ground down rips, she found herself wondering.  
Martha shook her head as if trying to shake off the weird thoughts protruding from her mind.

"But how did they...?"  
"Martha Jones, what did I say? No questions, just listen. And as an answer to the question you never would have gotten out: I don't know how they managed to get that brat inside of me. I simply don't know it. It's hard for me to say, but the surgeon... you know, the way he works, what he managed to perform, to accomplish... he's a genius. He must be a genius. And I know that he nearly suffocated me twice. And I know that I could die at his hands; and I may even die at his hands. But managing to force a Time Lord into gestation, especially a male Time Lord... I don't know where he got the knowledge from. I can't imagine how he worked that out."

Martha stared abashed at the Doctor, who had just had the nerves to call his torturer a genius.

"Of course he must have some twisted mind," the Doctor went on, "Working on living creatures and rearranging their intestines... but simply the mere thought of it... I never would have come up with that. I guess I wouldn't even know how to do this... well, not all of it... well, not the insertion... well, with the one book, probably but... well, I don't think it would work, well..."

Martha cut off the mumbling Doctor who seemed to be missing the point, as always.

"And why is he doing all this?" asked Martha and thereby calmed down the Doctor a bit. She thought the never-ending babbling he was suffering from to be some kind of a mental illness. It probably wouldn't kill him soon.  
But it would definitely kill him slowly. And probably even rather painfully.

The Doctor ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, lost in thought.  
"He talked to me... he always talked to me about how ashamed he felt... but I don't... well, I was pretty abashed by looking at my own amniotic sack but... he said something like 'We're in dire need of that child' whatever that was supposed to mean. Well, and after all... he's a surgeon. Of course he would need that child, of course he would need me. What else should he be doing? If he wasn't a surgeon he would probably be up all night and dance or compose music, or..."

"So, in four words: You have no idea," concluded Martha.  
"Right," replied the Doctor.  
Martha couldn't help but looking down at the Doctor's abdomen.  
Imagining that there was a living thing... a child in the Doctor's body...

"You can touch it."  
Martha looked up to the Doctor who appeared to be smiling gently.  
"If you want to. Well, of course you don't have to. But I guess you're rather curious to feel what a Time Lord stuffed with a creature feels like."  
"Stuffed..." repeated Martha and sighed. She reached out and pushed back the sheets. Her fingers rested on the Doctor's scared and sutured stomach. He groaned quietly and pulled a wry face.

Martha pulled back her hand.  
"It's alright" the Doctor declared immediately and shifted a bit uneasy again "but I can tell you that this thing's going to be developing a mind of its own soon and, well... it's already bugging me in its silent version."  
Martha didn't quite get the meaning of what the Doctor had just explained but she nodded nonetheless.

"So, where were we?" asked the Doctor and tried picking up the conversation before reaching for Martha's head and placing his hands on her temples. He pulled her face slowly in his direction and kissed her on the forehead before smiling at her while searching her gaze.  
Martha shook her head.

"What was that?" she asked a bit irritated and placed a hand on her temple, removing the Doctor's fingers emphatic.  
"Nothing" mumbled the Doctor and stared into her eyes star struck.

"Oh, no pull the other one," insisted Martha "You've done something like this before. I remember it. With the Judoons and on the moon and you kissed me and I thought you liked me but all you wanted was to distract the mercenaries and they scanned me..."  
"Oh no," the Doctor interrupted, "Don't do that. You make it sound like terrible prose but with a touch of romance hidden in the blunt words."  
"Well it was kind of romantic," Martha protested.

The Doctor sighed and rolled his eyes.  
"It was a diversionary tactic and nothing more."

"But that kiss on the forehead... what did you... is anyone going to scan me again soon?" asked Martha and pressed her fingers against her temples. She had come to the realization that they hurt after the Doctor had touched them.

Martha silenced the Doctor as he wanted to pick up the conversation again.  
She'd seen it before. It was something... he could... he was good at...  
"You're telepathic, aren't you?" burst out Martha all of a sudden and made the Doctor nearly drop the cup of tea he had picked up again.

The Doctor rolled his eyes as Martha gave him an inquisitive look.  
"What did you do in my head?"  
"It appears that it's not your mind that seems to be incapable of assembling a question," explained the Doctor while sipping his tea, "the fault must be locked somewhere between your interbrain, your vocal chords and your tongue."

Martha sighed.  
The Doctor sure had a different kind of view on medical problems.  
"It's not a fault, neither is it a failure" stated Martha "I simply don't speak what I think. I don't say things outright or bluntly."

"If you don't say things that you think why don't you stick to thinking, then?" asked the Doctor. Martha glared at him.  
"Is this an insult?"  
The Doctor considered this for a moment before shaking his head.  
"No. Why?"  
"See? This happens when you speak what you think without considering what other could think what you meant to say!" snapped Martha.  
The Doctor sighed again. "Martha calm down."

"I'm not calming down," she placed her hands on her hips before deciding that she would appear even more insistently by folding her arms in front of her chest.  
"What were you doing in my head?"

"Searching for the questions you're going to bug me with," replied the Doctor bluntly, "In fact, I wanted to know how many questions exactly you were going to ask me. I just wanted to know if my catheter bag will endure that long."  
"Why do you keep talking about your catheter bag?" asked Martha irritated and turned up her nose at him, "and it wouldn't become endangered of overflowing if you would stop drinking tea all the time."

"Alright."  
The Doctor placed the cup on the bedside table and rested his hands on his lap.  
"We'll make it quick. I give you the answers and you simply connect them to your questions."  
Martha couldn't quite follow but the Doctor started nonetheless.

"I don't know where the surgeries have taken place."  
Alright, thought Martha, that was an easy one: 'Where did they perform the operations?'

"I don't know what it's going to be."  
Possibly the answer to 'Is it going to be a Time Lord?', Martha assumed.

"I don't know how they got into her."  
The Tardis, completed Martha.

"They've taken it away from me."

"Wait, stop there for a moment," interrupted Martha "Is this: What's happened to your cockiness?' or is it 'Where's your screwdriver?'"  
"The screwdriver" replied the Doctor "they've taken away the screwdriver. And my cockiness hasn't suffered a bit."  
"Alright, sorry," smiled Martha "Carry on."

"I don't know."  
Okay, that's either 'How did they manage to create a Time Lord baby?' or 'What are they going to do to you next?', thought Martha.

"And I don't know, either."  
Well, didn't matter, Martha sighed, It had been one of them.

"And finally: Yes."  
Martha looked up baffled.  
"What was that?" she asked.  
"The answer to your last question," replied the Doctor.  
"I thought that had been the last one."  
"You had wondered if I was scared. And yes, Martha, I'm scared. I'm really scared."

Martha froze after catching a glimpse of the Doctor's facial expression.  
His eyes were dark and his cold glare seemed to spread, it seemed to reach out for her eyes as well;  
it was more than pure sadness; his stare protruded his hidden forlornness.  
The Doctor was unpromisingly hopeless.

Martha felt herself gasp at her own conclusion.  
She hadn't seen the Doctor like this, not ever before.  
No matter what they had faced together, no matter how past hope she'd been the Doctor had always known... the Doctor always knew a way out.

"And if the Doctor tells you that he doesn't?"  
Martha nearly jumped at the Doctor's earnest but crushing reply.

"What if I tell you that the Doctor's lost because the Doctor's at his wits end? What then Martha Jones?"


	20. In Your World

The Doctor had let his gaze slip and his eyes focused on the window on the other side of the room.  
Martha had heard him sighing several times while she had started tidying up the room.  
She wasn't quite comfortable with seeing the Doctor like this; and worst of all she didn't know how to help him.  
Martha shook her head and placed her hands on her temples; her fingers massaged the same spot over and over again.

"You never told me that your head could get sore from those telepathic waves," Martha tried catching the Doctor's attention again by easing up the tension a bit.  
The Doctor looked up to her and sighed again.  
"Sorry about that," mumbled the Doctor "Never had that myself. But I don't know what it does to humans. Probably shouldn't have tried it out on you."  
Then he eyed her up carefully, eventually locking his eyes with hers.  
He smiled gingerly. "And thank you for your effort."

Martha had felt him infiltrating her mind again and chuckled after the sharp stinging pain on her temples had stopped.  
"Stop that," Martha sat down on the bed again, "Don't rummage through my head. I don't want you to find something that might disturb you."  
The Doctor narrowed his eyes on her and let his gaze sink into her eyes, about half an inch deep.  
He chuckled. "Oh, that won't disturb me; I've done that before with Jack."

"What?!" Martha nearly jumped from her seat after the Doctor's reply,  
"No, you... you two perverts! And I thought only opposite-sex couples could do that."

"I was only bluffing" replied the Doctor and cocked an eyebrow at Martha, giving her that look she had always admired: "And you, Martha Jones, are definitely not the innocent little girl you used to be. But don't worry; I'll keep out of your head. I've tried that telepathic connection with Jack and believe me... I've learned my lesson."  
Martha stared at him with disbelieving eyes.

"So... what does he think about all the time?" she asked and had to chuckle.  
"Well what do you _think_ he thinks about all the time? And I don't think that you actually want to know."  
"Does it always involve you?" Martha went on.  
"Almost always" replied the Doctor earnestly and bit his lower lip as images washed through his mind he wouldn't want to speak about.

"Has he tried the..."  
"I don't want to talk about that," interrupted the Doctor hastily, "And that's just gross! I've seen the visions in your head and the smile on your lips. How can a girl with an angel's face think such gruesome thoughts?"  
"Sorry," mumbled Martha.

After the silence had settled a bit she had to add, "Actually, I tried it myself and I was surprised that..." to elicit a sudden, "Stop it!" from the Doctor before he pressed his hands over his ears.  
Martha chuckled again and had to wonder how someone who had spent what felt like an eternity with Jack could still be that uptight.

"Have you talked to Jack about it?" asked Martha and disturbed the arising silence once more.  
The Doctor searched her ebony-eyes to find questions lurking he didn't want to answer. At least not too soon.  
"No, and I would ask you not to tell him about our little chat," replied the Doctor directly "I'll inform him myself."  
Martha nodded.

He'll never do that, thought Martha to herself. She figured she knew him quite well enough that it would never happen, that the Doctor wouldn't have the heart to tell Jack about it all until the 'big showdown' where there's no turning back, and emotions are flaring up and there's probably a life-or-death-struggle involved , too.  
At least it's always been this way with the Doctor till now. He simply never found the perfect time. Or he got in too much trouble to even find a medium-right time.

As if he had caught a glimpse of Martha's thoughts the Doctor grabbed one of her hands and squeezed it tenderly.  
"But you have to promise me, Martha. Promise me not to tell Jack."  
Martha found herself caught by surprise due to the Doctor's urging plea.  
"Why should I...?"  
"I know that look on your face. I've seen that one before. It's the 'I'm-up-to-no-good-and-the-Doctor-won't-even-notice-that-I-have-broken-something-off-the-Tardis'-look."  
"I didn't mean to!" snapped Martha "And if the paint hadn't still been wet when you had returned you never would have found out!"

Martha chuckled. The Doctor was close to smiling but he wouldn't get it working. He remained earnest and composed.

"Please, promise me that you won't tell Jack. Not about the medical stuff."

"I'll promise you, Doctor. You have my word. I swear to God that I won't tell."  
"Oh, you shouldn't be saying this. Really, you shouldn't be. Don't swear to God's, you shouldn't be doing this."

Martha stared at him in wonder. "But why? Don't you swear on or to anything?"  
"Only on star constellations lately. And I try to avoid it. You shouldn't be doing this either, and especially not to a God. Do you know what's the trouble with Gods? They always tend to come in pairs."

Martha thought about it for a moment. Then she shook her head.  
"Not, that's gloves."

The Doctor seemed to rummage through his thoughts and memories and pulled a wry face.  
Maybe a Time Lord's head is bigger on the inside too, Martha wondered, at least it would explain why there's enough place for useless information stored in it.  
"Right, right," the Doctor went on "But don't they need to stand on chairs? No, wait a minute that was dwarves... what was is about Gods? Gods... of course, about the God: The trouble with a God is, Martha: You don't know what about it cares."

The Doctor looked at her full of expectation. Martha considered it once more.  
"Does that make sense?" she asked.  
"My people used to believe it. Yes, they believed not to believe in Gods... which is rather odd when you come to think about it."  
The Doctor padded the sheet beside him and Martha moved up closer.

"On Gallifrey people believed that 'Gods laugh differently'... as a child I always had to wonder if you could actually hear a God laughing, if his laughter was in a different tone, or if they found amusement in other things... but, you know... from my perspective... you know...  
I'm looking at a world, a beautiful world full of wonders and amazement, I'm looking at your world Martha, the human world, with alien eyes. And you know that we used to agree on most things... but I'll never be able to see in your world what you see.  
And it's not because my eyes are different... it takes more to be a human being than simply have those unique eyes and the beautiful appearance... it's more than that.  
We're limited, Martha. Each of us is limited, stuck in their own point of view, unable to maintain a different perspective on things.  
And with different I mean neither good nor bad; I simply mean in another way. We all have our ways of seeing things.  
And we can't ever see, nor can we know what others see in them.  
And I'm only an alien. I'm not that different from you.  
Just imagine what it would be like to see through the eyes of beings that have another definition of 'consciousness' or even 'being' itself?"

The Doctor looked at Martha with a more concrete stare and found her wondering about a Time Lord's view on philosophy. She let her gaze wander until it rested on the cup of tea. As the Doctor picked it up her eyes were locked on something invisible hovering in mid-air above the bedside table.

"I wonder what a God sees in us," mumbled Martha absent-minded.  
"Pawns, I suppose," muttered the Doctor and opened his eyes wide, "And probably lots of jokes."  
"What do Gods laugh about?" asked Martha and felt her mind drifting back to reality slowly.  
"That's a bit too philosophical, isn't it?" counter questioned the Doctor and thereby managed to get Martha finally back "It took me centuries to find out whether or not a God exists and how my conclusion affects my point of view, I can't discuss with you 'What is humour for Gods?'."

"You brought up the philosophical issue," complained Martha and folded her arms again.  
"Yes, and we can discuss that later, like maybe in two or three centuries."  
The Doctor smiled at Martha who narrowed her eyes at him.  
"You do know that I won't live that long, you lucky bastard?"  
"Well, too bad," he smiled and refilled his cup.

Martha put the Doctor on another IV before staring at the mess on the bed.  
"I can return the bottles to the Tardis," she stated firmly, "though I hate doing courier services."  
"I thought you had someone for that in Torchwood," replied the Doctor "the pale male one who always stares at you as if he'd seen his own death in your eyes? Don't you remember him?"  
"Ianto?" asked Martha.  
"Don't know their names," replied the Doctor, "Every Torchwood member can only be designated as 'enemy'. I don't think they actually need names."

"I can't bother members of Torchwood for everything; I'm not even part of Torchwood. And besides, you wouldn't want them to get their hands on your precious meds, would you?" countered Martha.

"No, I wouldn't. But sadly my 'precious meds' have already been taken by someone whose identity is as much a mystery to me as their intentions; and now I'm left with nothing but sun blocker that has expired 300 years ago, depilatory cream and bottles I can't either get open or decipher the writing on the front."  
"But you wouldn't want Torchwood to get those meds, either," Martha chuckled, "Just watch out what Torchwood might do with Time Lord depilatory cream."  
"Right, they could turn me into a hairy monster within a week," smiled the Doctor.

Martha picked up the bottles and headed for the door.  
"You forgot something," the Doctor reminded her.  
Martha turned around.

"I won't take _that_ thing with me."

"Oh come on, it can hardly sleep on the sheets. It's too bright. They're meant to be kept in darker places. And don't be rude, it has a name."

"But what am I supposed to do with it?" asked Martha "Where am I supposed to put it?"  
"Put it back in the cabinet. Just ram it in with the other stuff, Martha" ordered the Doctor.

"I'm not going to touch it ever again" Martha refused to pick up the fuzzy creature.  
"I don't like it. And that must have been some friend of yours, giving you a small explosive device… why were you friends again?"  
"I just happened to know him," replied the Doctor.  
He wouldn't keep on talking. But Martha's curiosity had awoken so she went on asking: "What was his name?"  
The Doctor shrugged. He reached for the paneopal puffy and fumbled around with it nervously.  
After stroking the creature cautiously and letting it roll onto its back he stated quiety:

"Koschei."

"That's a Russian name, isn't it?" asked Martha  
"Probably."  
"So a friend from Russia gave it to you?"  
"No. I told you it was for the Time War. It was on Gallifrey."  
"And you're friend's name was Russian?" asked Martha.  
"Look," the Doctor tried to remain calm, "Don't ask me about it. We all got other names when we entered the Academy. Nicknames, I suppose… and probably cheap jokes, too."  
"You went under a different name?" Martha went on.  
"I always go under a different name," replied the Doctor.

"But… you actually had another name?" Martha repeated.  
The Doctor mocked Martha by clapping his hands together.  
"Oh no" he mumbled ironically "you got me. 'The Doctor' isn't actually my real name."  
"So, what is your real name, then?" Martha wouldn't stop bugging him.  
"I can't tell you," he replied sulkily.

The Doctor let himself sink deeper into the cushion; the paneopal puffy had come to notice that the hand, that had till now busied itself with stroking it, had disappeared and yawned its way slowly towards the Doctor, with all the impressiveness a furry hairball could possess.

"You won't tell me your name?" asked Martha.  
The Doctor shook his head.  
"Too personal?" she guessed.  
"No, I can't tell you because you wouldn't be able to pronounce it correctly unless I would rip out your tongue and tape it to your front teeth upside down."  
Martha stared at him with disbelieving eyes and tried imagining it.  
"Then you'd be able to at least speak it correctly…perhaps…but your mind would probably turn into a knot, too," the Doctor went on.  
"Alright, alright," snapped Martha "I'm sorry for asking."  
Martha rolled her eyes and started tidying up the room.

The Doctor had folded his arms in front of his chest; he sighed quietly.  
He wasn't content with the current situation but under no circumstances he wanted to draw attention towards himself.

The Doctor knew it wouldn't be easy to talk to Martha about that. He knew that in the empathetic and intelligent human being that called herself Martha lingered a boisterous lust to kill. And he wouldn't want to wake it… and who knew what she'd do to his little friend?  
If she knew that it was a gift from…

The Doctor's eyes snapped open after a cushion had hit him in the face.  
"Don't give me that look, Doctor" snapped Martha "And don't play innocent. I don't know how things were 'back home'. But I don't care if your social behavior included staring at young female's buttocks. And I'm not comfortable with you inspecting my backside, not even if it was considered normal on Gal-live-ray!"  
"Gallifrey," corrected the Doctor "My home-planet's name was 'Gallifrey'."  
"Don't try changing the subject," Martha nearly cut him off, "And I just said 'Gal-live-ray'."

"Maybe ripping out your tongue wasn't such a bad idea," mumbled the Doctor barely audible and thought to be on the safe side.  
"Oh yeah?" Martha folded her arms in front of her chest "Just you try coming near me, nameless blue-box-driver-who-tends-to-leave-the-hand break-applied!"

The Doctor chuckled and felt the ball of fur brushing against his elbows. He lowered one hand slowly and felt the fluffy creature grumbling and purring before it rolled on its back again.

The Doctor faced Martha with a sigh.

"My name at the Academy was 'Theta-Sigma'," he stated quietly. There was a small spark of curiosity emerging from Martha's eyes as she smiled.  
"But don't think that I'll tell you this because I trust you or because it's something personal. The name's nothing personal, I inherited it from someone who died there and they simply were sick of stitching new badges all the time. I only tell you this because I can't stand you bugging me with questions all the time. And please don't ask what the Academy was and what we were forced to do there and who _we_ were and how _we_ ended in a purple river without our clothes on."

Martha stared at him with disbelieving eyes and eyebrows raised.  
"You're completely mad," she mumbled.  
The Doctor shrugged before placing his hand at the fur ball's six feet. It twitched delightfully.

"It's rather ticklish," the Doctor smiled and reached for Martha's hand after she'd come closer to take a glimpse of the furry creature.

"Oh, come on" the Doctor insisted emphatically.  
Martha tried pulling her hand away but the Doctor increased his grip and stroked the paneopal puffy with the back of her hand. "Even if it is contagious: You're still wearing gloves."  
"I don't like the sounds its making," mumbled Martha "And if it IS a UXO?"

The Doctor sighed again and continued tickling the furry creature.  
"And this friend... Kosce... Kooo... Koschtsch...," after a couple of attempts Martha gave in.  
"Koschei," pronounced the Doctor firmly.  
Martha nodded and decided on skipping the name.

"He gave that thing to you?"  
"As already mentioned he used to work in a factory. He helped developing it."  
"What kind of a factory was that?"  
"It was part of the defence- and arms sectors. Well, he told me that they discontinued the race due to its lack of interest in getting blown up."

Martha smiled and stared the Doctor in the eye suspiciously.  
"Who wouldn't want to?" she asked uneasy.  
"Well, they were created for fighting. But that's the trouble with artificial intelligence, Martha: give it a life of its own and POOF; you can fight your war yourself. No mindless soldiers with unquestioning obedience, no secret weapons..."

He sighed while the fuzzy creature purred louder.  
"Of course you wouldn't have been a good soldier, would you? Ooh, would you?" cooed the Doctor.  
Martha rolled her eyes and chuckled.

"I don't need your opinion on that, Martha Jones," stated the Doctor firmly while he wouldn't take his eyes off the small ball of fur, "Just for you information, I used to be a father, a grandfather, an older brother, a step-sister and a mother-in-law and Kasterborous-knows-what-else and don't ask me how I got into all of that. More children have passed through my hands than you will probably ever get to see even if you happen to work at a baby ward and therefore, Ms Jones, I assume that I have the right to coo as much as I want to."

After submitting the clear statement the Doctor picked up the purring creature and stroked it while pressing... one of its ends... against his chest.  
Martha couldn't quite guess where the head was located due to its fuzziness but she wouldn't have accused the Doctor of holding that thing upside down. IF the thing happened to have a right side you could hold up.  
Only the small legs protruding from the fur foreshadowed that there was something like a top and a bottom side to this creature.

"This creature was... created?" wondered Martha.  
"Of course. You can't say 'creature' without 'create'," replied the Doctor.  
"But it's pronounced differently" explained Martha.  
The Doctor shrugged. "Humans," he mumbled "pronounce everything differently."

"How can you create a creature?" Martha went on.  
"You can if you have the right equipment. And lots of luck. Anyway, it's not really 'inventing'. It was a simple process of copying and defragmenting artificially constructed modules you would refer to as 'domino acids' or something like that."  
Martha considered it for a moment.

"I think you're relating to DNA and it's called 'amino acids'."  
"Right," the Doctor went on "It's more like... creating an amount of useless devices and hoping that one of it could be useful in the near future. How do you create a creature? By hazard, by chance, Martha. Accidently? Perhaps. Luckily? Never. Coincidently?..."

Martha cut off the Doctor before the senseless mumbling would start again.  
"But why the six legs?" she asked.

"How many legs do you have?" asked the Doctor.  
"Two" replied Martha instantly.  
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Imagine I would mistake your arms for legs, too," the Doctor went on "How many legs would you have then?"  
Martha thought about it.  
"Four?"

"Right" the Doctor explained "Symmetry is found in most animals. Everything is paired. And four is quite a nice number. Usually animals... mammals...well, actually most things go smoothly with four limbs."  
"Extremities!" corrected Martha as she felt quite amusing, not to say perverted, pictures entering her mind "Please Doctor, say extremities, not limbs!"  
"Alright... and you called me perverted...where were we? Right, four. Four legs are ideal. And I guess someone at the factory figured that it could be useful if you put in some extra-legs. You know... just in case some of them went missing..."  
"Not that uncommon during a war," added Martha.

Martha checked on the Doctor's catheter again and took a glance of his chest.  
"I don't really think it looks good," she explained quietly "But I don't know what I'm supposed to give you against the rash."  
"Too bad I'm the only Time Lord around," mumbled the Doctor, "The Master always used to have a first aid box that was bigger than mine."

The Doctor could have bitten off his tongue for his own words as he caught a glimpse of Martha's glare.  
He really shouldn't have mentioned that name.  
Martha tensed by the mere thought of him.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... it's not as if...sorry, Martha," added the Doctor rather quickly.

"It's nice to be reminded of _him_ after all this time, isn't it?" hissed Martha between gritted teeth.  
"I didn't mean to remind you..." the Doctor began but got cut off by Martha.  
"But you did. And maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe it's his fault. Maybe it's his fault again!"

Martha walked towards the window, deep in thought and returned while mumbling things the Doctor wouldn't quite get.  
He stare her in the face as she had come to a halt in front of him again.

"Of course, the Master! Why didn't you think about it yourself? Who could do something to you except for him?" Martha blurted out.

The Doctor took a quick glance of his swollen abdomen and felt fear rising in his veins.  
But the anxiety vanished as soon as it had arisen.  
"No, no, no," the Doctor mumbled quietly "That's not like him; that would be completely stupid."

"Well he IS stupid" snapped Martha.  
"No, he's not stupid he's just mad," corrected the Doctor.  
Martha's eyes glistened with anger.

"He IS stupid" she spat and focused on the Doctor.  
"Alright, alright, he is stupid, but that's too... I don't know. What would he do with a child? What would I do with a child? And I don't think he would work together with a Silurian, he never seemed to like them. And either way: It can't be him. And that's that."

"You just don't want to think about it" contradicted Martha.  
"No, that's not right... I mean of course I don' want to imagine that the brat it actually his. But it isn't. It can't be! And I know it. I would sense him... I would smell him. You know, that's something I've told you before. You may trick the eyes but a Time Lord's nose can't be outwitted."

"Maybe you should quit time travelling then and start searching for truffles" Martha folded her arms "And if it IS the Master?"  
"Martha it can't be him. I would smell him... believe me, I would smell him. He stinks."  
"I quite believe that," replied Martha. "But what about this thing the... the chameleon..."  
"The Chameleon Crch," completed the Doctor.  
"What about it?"

"If he used that one? Would you still be able to recognise him if he used the Chameleon Crch?"  
"I'd recognise him," replied the Doctor "Don't worry. You won't stop smelling because of the Chameleon Arch."

Jack slipped into the medical room without being noticed by either one of them.

"But you never know what the Chameleon Arch does," Martha went on "And you can't remember a thing afterwards."  
"Yes, but it definitely wasn't the Chameleon Arch. I don't even think he's capable of doing this. It's not very common."  
"But you told me about the Chameleon Arch. And I thought it was normal amongst Time Lords."  
"Oh, I wouldn't say normal. It happened from time to time."  
"Happened? How could this happen?"

"What are you talking about?"

Both Martha and the Doctor were dumbfounded as they discovered Jack standing in the door frame.  
"Chameleon Arch?" he repeated,

"What kind of a sex position is that?"


	21. Uprising

* * *

"Jack, you idiot" said Martha before the Doctor could have yelled the same "That's no sex position... oh, for God's sake... Sorry, Doctor, didn't mean to. But I can't swear to your stellar constellations, I can't get them right."

"You have a one-track mind" the Doctor shook his head while Martha grabbed the bottles with the meds in again.  
"I thought you liked that about me" replied Jack and moved over to the Doctor's bed to sit down beside him "And could anyone please explain this to me?"

Martha had picked up the fuzzy creature as the Doctor stopped her.  
"No, Martha you're holding it upside down."  
"There's no back and front to that thing, there's no head or tail; it's only fur!" snapped Martha while shaking it gently.  
"And what is that thing?" asked Jack. Martha considered her next action for a moment before throwing the thing at Jack and heading for the next room.  
"Martha!" the Doctor yelled after her.  
"He can't die! Let him take care of that thing!" was Martha's answer as she was already heading for the Tardis.

The Doctor sighed as Jack stared at the ball of fur in his hands.  
"And what is that?" he asked the Doctor.  
"It's a paneopal puffy, Jack, and please don't try flirting with it because it might already be asleep" stated the Doctor and folded his arms again.  
"Oh, aren't you a fluffy cutie" smiled Jack and stroked it carefully.  
"Jack" the Doctor's words were an imperative warning "Don't even think about it."

"About what?" asked Jack?

"About what you usually think" replied the Doctor.  
"I always think about IT" Jack chuckled and turned the small creature around in his hands.  
"We too used to have furry rats" explained Jack "but they had only had three legs. Or four, at the most."  
Spare legs hadn't been such a bad idea, the Doctor thought to himself.

Silence spread through the room as the Doctor buttoned his shirt while Jack had only eyes for the Doctor's small furry friend… with the six legs.  
"I'm always amazed at where you get those things" explained Jack while he toyed with the ball of fur.

"It was a gift" mumbled the Doctor and added in a lower voice "And it was supposed to kill me."  
"Who gave it to you?" asked Jack.  
"A friend from the Academy; he said I should keep it within reach."  
"Okay" Jack faced the Doctor "And what was his name?

"Koschei."  
Jack burst out laughing.  
"Oh, you think this is funny?" asked the Doctor unnerved "Well it isn't! I could have been killed!"

"You took a gift from _him_?" repeated Jack disbelievingly "Wasn't Koschei the…"  
"The Master's name at the Academy, yes Jack. I reckon that you do remember what I tell you. Well I could have managed without that."

"Why did you keep it?" asked Jack after he'd calmed down a bit. He cleared his throat to stop himself from giggling again.  
"Because it means a lot to me" replied the Doctor and sighed. His facial expression became more sternly. "And I can't simply throw it away. It was a gift, even if it was from Koschei. But there were times when… he wasn't always like this, you know? Well, of course he was like this… but he wouldn't have simply killed people out of enjoyment but because it had been his duty… Oh, well…"

The Doctor sighed before snatching the paneopal puffy from Jack. He eyed it up carefully from fur to toe.  
"You know Jack…" the Doctor stated quietly but got Jack's attention nonetheless "Somehow it had always reminded me of him. Quiet…somewhat fluffy…somehow cute…inconspicuous… and yet highly explosive."

Jack backed away from the creature in an instant.  
"And you let me hold that thing?"  
"Don't worry, it won't go off" explained the Doctor "It won't blow its stack."

The Doctor could literally heard Jack smirking beside him.  
"Jack, you idiot, you're disgusting" sighed the Doctor and pulled a wry face. "How can you make smut jokes about my paneopal puffy?"  
"I've never heard _that_ name before" Jack giggled "But I don't have anything against calling your…"

"Oh, for Kasterborous sake" snapped the Doctor and held the ball of fur directly into Jack's face " _That_ 's a paneopal puffy. Not what you were thinking about. It's Gallifreyan, 'papal' is a children's word for 'small thing' 'neo' means as much as 'new' and there's nothing perverted about it."

"And what does 'puffy' mean?" asked Jack.  
The Doctor placed the fuzzy creature in his lap and folded his arms.  
"Some words are intergalactic" replied the Doctor in a huff.

Jack stroked the creature tenderly.  
"Somehow it's sweet" he chuckled.  
"I don't like it when you say such things" mumbled the Doctor "And I don't like your hands in my lap."  
"Oh, Doctor" moaned Jack and breathed out deeply "You _do_ like my hands right where they are."

The back of Jack's hand stroked the Doctor's stomach unintentionally while Jack fumbled around with the snoozy creature. The Doctor felt as if something had stung him, as if something had slashed his bruised skin.  
But he knew what it was immediately.

He was plagued by a guilty conscience.  
He _had_ to tell Jack.

And if he wouldn't Martha would sure do it on his behalf in the near future.

"Jack…" the Doctor started with a tender voice "Jack, tell me. What was it the Master used to call you? Your race and all?"

"Apes" replied Jack without even thinking about it "Though you used to say that it was a threat to all simians if someone would dare to call me ape."  
He smiled but the Doctor wasn't in the mood for this.

"Right, Jack. He called you 'ape'. And thereby he referred to the descent of man, to the human origin."  
"I still think he wanted to insult me" Jack went on.

The Doctor rolled his eyes.  
"Jack, you're missing the point. It's not about insults it's about ancestry."  
The Doctor leaned back while Jack wouldn't stop fondling the paneopal puffy as well as its owner's lap.

"It's funny, really. Do you know to what species Time Lords are closest?"  
Jack searched his mind for a smut remark but couldn't think of one. Eventually he shrugged.

"Seahorses" replied the Doctor.  
"How can anyone be related to seahorses?" asked Jack. The Doctor picked up the paneopal puffy and smacked Jack with it.  
Jack placed a hand on his right temple.  
"That thing is pretty solid" gasped Jack.

The Doctor smiled. "Time Lord technology. So it's probably bigger on the inside, too.  
Jack, you're missing the point again. Of course Time Lords are related to seahorses. Do you think such beautiful and peculiar creatures just pop out of nowhere? They're aliens, Jack. As well as sea stars, but let's not talk about them… they're rather strange…"

"Seahorses are aliens?" repeated Jack disbelievingly.  
"Yes and I'd suggest you'd start buying diving suits soon if you want to lock up all of them. Sorry, Jack, just a Torchwood joke. The point is: Seahorses are aliens. You should have noticed that Jack. Seahorses are different. Their behaving… their interaction… their courtship…"

"Time Lords are doing a 'predawn dance' too?" asked Jack baffled.  
The Doctor raised his paneopal puffy and smacked him over the head once more.  
"After this is over please remind me why I'm doing this…" mumbled the Doctor grumpily and threw the furry creature to the foot of the bed.  
The Doctor sighed and folded his arms. Jack wouldn't stop pawing the Doctor's lap.

"What is special about seahorses?" asked the Doctor.

Jack considered this for a moment.

"They are… small… they are a unique shape…"  
The Doctor nodded and signalized Jack to go on  
"They are cute…?"  
"Cute?" repeated the Doctor and lifted his eyebrows "You think seahorses are cute?"  
"Well, they look cute they way the swim, the way they wrap their tales around corals…" Jack proceeded but got interrupted by the Doctor:

"Seriously cute, Jack? I mean, you call me cute, you tell me that I'm cute all the time. But a seahorse… you consider seahorses to be cute, too, Jack? The same way as you call me cute?" "Doctor, let's not make a fuss about it…"  
"No, Jack. You think seahorses are cute. And that's just wrong!"  
Jack gave the Doctor an irritated look. Martha had mentioned that he wasn't feeling well. But she hadn't mentioned that he had finally snapped.  
Jack tried calming the Doctor by caressing his shoulders. The Doctor eyed him up suspiciously.

"Are you sexually attracted to seahorses, Jack? Are you?"  
"What?" Jack stared at the Doctor and furrowed his brows "Doctor…?"  
"Just tell me Jack. Have you ever been sexually attracted to a seahorse Jack? Ever in your entire life?"

Jack sighed and stopped fondling the Doctor.  
"So you have been sexually attracted to seahorses. That's just gross!"  
"You told me that Time Lords were related to seahorses" Jack tried to defend himself.  
"Being sexually attracted to a Time Lord is nearly as gross as being sexually attracted to a seahorse" replied the Doctor.  
Jack cocked an eyebrow at him.

"But you know, it's hard not being sexually attracted to a seahorse… they look so sweet… they come in beautiful colors, their snouts look rather tempting…"  
"Jack, you do realize that this is even more of a turnoff?" explained the Doctor and increased the grip on his own arms.

"Time Lord's mouths weren't made for giving away humorous remarks, I get that" Jack chuckled while stroking the Doctor's cheeks "but I do have some ideas what else could be done with them."

The Doctor shrugged. "Not as disgusting as the seahorse-sex-talk. You're getting closer."

Jack sighed and searched the Doctor's face, obviously lost in thought. But the Doctor could tell right away when Jack had returned. There was this slinky smile again that even Doctor couldn't resist.

"Maybe I should show you first what I'm talking about" explained Jack and pushed back the sheets before lunging himself at the Doctor's groin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...but the big question is: What IS special about seahorses? (Anyone got the Doctor's hint?)
> 
> If Jack would have been a bit more attentive during biology lessons he definitely would have known...


	22. Unintended

"Jack!" the Doctor had nothing to exclaim but this as Jack grabbed the Doctor's limb and stroked it carefully.

"I like you shaved" chuckled Jack and the Doctor turned his head away in disgust while thinking about who had done the pre-surgery shaving.  
"I guess the catheter has to go, though" Jack went on and removed it cautiously.

"You're not as stupid as usual" commented the Doctor "I was afraid you'd simply try to rip it out."  
"No, that would hurt, wouldn't it?"

"Captain Jack Harkness, how come you know anything about catheterization?" asked the Doctor while he kissed Jack's neck tenderly.  
"There's nothing like cheering up a friend," explained Jack, "Especially if he's injured."  
"You pervert," giggled the Doctor and grabbed Jack by the hair as his face stroked the Doctor's genitals.

Jack moved his lips around the Doctor's half-hard limb and, as he decided on taking it in, let it slip out of his mouth, spat on it, rubbed his nose against it and only cared for the sweet and intensifying noises which started to come from the Doctor.  
The Doctor breathed heavily and closed his eyes; he shifted nervously under Jack's touch. Jack tilted his head back and gave the Doctor a slinky smile before covering the Doctor's groin with kisses and moving his lips slightly upwards, kissing his way from the Doctor's pulsating genitals up to his...

The Doctor flinched as he felt Jacks tongue caressing his lower abdomen. Jack grasped the Doctor's upper parts of the hipbone and pressed down on them firmly, causing the Doctor to shiver and gasp for air.

Jack's hand trailed across the Doctor's pelvis; to his surprise they got pushed aside by the Doctor who grasped his fingers tightly.

The Doctor's pulse was going up steadily. He panted and produced choking noises. But somehow he wasn't aroused; somehow he had trouble getting heated.  
The brat was definitely not helping; neither was Jack who kept reaching for his lower abdomen.

The Doctor had wanted to tell Jack. He really had wanted to tell Jack what's happened.  
He just wanted to say:  
"Yes, that's a baby I'm carrying but ignore it because it will be cut out before you know it. And no I don't know who did this to me, but that's fine and I've learned to live with it."

But he couldn't. Whenever he looked Jack in the eye... like now while he wouldn't stop giving him head... he couldn't. He hated himself for being the coward he was but he just couldn't.

The Doctor was still a believer of 'the right time'. But he should have known better.

There was no right time to tell your lover that you've been forcefully impregnated.  
And that time will hopefully never come.

"Jack, stop that" mumbled the Doctor uneasily and rolled over to one side, resting his head on the pillow again and placing both of his hands over his crotch to shield it from Jack's view... together with his swollen abdomen.

He really was surprised how Jack could have failed to notice it. Well, the Doctor had put on some weight and lost some over the past years... but not concentrated in just one area!  
The Doctor had heard the saying 'Love makes you do strange things' many times till now. But apparently it made deaf, dumb and blind, too.

On the other hand... Jack had failed to notice any changes in the Doctor's appearance so far. The Doctor wondered if Jack would even notice if he'd come to him one day with his head missing.

But the Doctor had to smile grimly while Jack started caressing his back.  
Of course Jack would notice _that_. At the latest when he'd try to stick his rock-hard cock into a promising cavity.

"I thought I'd give you a head start" smiled Jack and tried to push the Doctor back onto his back.  
"That's what we're calling it now? A head start?" asked the Doctor teasingly.  
"Well you keep complaining that I'm coming too fast" countered Jack.  
"Not too fast, Jack" replied the Doctor "too frequently for my taste."  
"I'm sorry for being no bloody Time Lord without any kind of natural urges or sex drives" whispered Jack in the Doctor's ear before nibbling on it.

"Oh, you're not sorry Jack" the Doctor pushed him away and lay on one side again "You're so not sorry. You're proud of your instincts, of your promiscuity, your permissiveness and Kasterborous knows what else. You're proud of being close to animals; you're not denying your animalistic lustfulness. You're consumed by desire and there's nothing more of you, Jack."

"Are you planning on turning me off?" asked Jack with one eyebrow raised and an irresistible smile "Because unfortunately I have to tell you: it's not going to work like this."

The Doctor rolled onto his stomach. He wouldn't want Jack to notice his slightly swollen stomach. Alright, he could cross out the 'slightly'. His abdomen was hard and bulged. But the Doctor wouldn't want Jack to realise his bodily changes during his penetration, or right after his climax.  
Jack tended to think about the strangest things after reaching his completion.  
Though the Doctor didn't want to think about it.

"If that's the way you want it..." whispered Jack into the Doctor's ear before climbing on top of him and kneeling above his slinky body.  
The Doctor moaned aloud as Jack stroked his tingling skin, he removed the Doctor's clothes in an instant and removed his own garment as well.

The Doctor was always amazed at how Jack managed to get undressed in the blink of an eye, though he thought it to be some kind of special ability, learned and elaborated by the humans from the fifty first century. Or their clothes simply had more zips than he could see with the naked eye.

Jack lowered himself onto the Doctor slowly, enjoying the twitching and squirming body beneath him. He rested cautiously on top of the Doctor before entering the beloved velvet tightness pleasurably. The Doctor groaned and buried his head in his cushion, shielding his blushed cheeks from Jack's lustful stares.

The Doctor felt ashamed.  
He always felt ashamed when Jack made love to him. He wouldn't stop believing that having a sexual relationship with a human being was something religious Gallifreyans would have considered 'a sin'; others would have probably said that it was 'really weird', as well.  
The Doctor couldn't get comfortable with the idea that a human being would dare to dominate his delicate and tight body.  
Alright.  
The trouble was that he was in fact _very comfortable_ with getting dominated and laid by a human being.  
Not the fifty-first century in general, of course; He figured that the century couldn't make it any worse.

He enjoyed the sex with Jack. He really enjoyed feeling him, experiencing lust by a stranger's touch, he loved the way Jack didn't get feed up with his body, the way he was still searching, still desiring more, and still yearning for higher pleasure. Jack would still take him as if he wouldn't know his body, as if he hadn't already fingered and felt every inch of it, on the inside as well as on the outside; but Jack took his time to re-invent their sex-life every time.  
He didn't want to _know_ the Doctor.  
He wanted to _experience_ him.

Jack thrust in with increasing force and picked up the pace. He buried his fingers in the Doctor's hair, which was by now soaked with sweat; Jack lifted the Doctor's head by force and pulled on his hair to elicit those sweet and tempting noises he was longing for.  
The Doctor moaned and wanted to scream at the forceful hand in his neck but all he managed to produce was a lust-driven howl which had the opposite effect; now Jack was picking up the pace again and hewed him even more vigorously.

The Doctor struggled for air as he felt his soft and stretched cavity tightening – he was experiencing a rather painful cramp as Jack tried to force himself deeper into the Doctor.

Jack heard the Doctor underneath him yelping and snarling and let go off the Doctor's hair while covering his neck with butterfly kisses. The Doctor winced in pain at every of Jack's movements.

"Jack please," the Doctor's plea was displeasingly upsetting, "Please, stop... I can't..." he got cut off by a tearful sob and reached for Jack's hands.  
Jack grasped the Doctor's trembling fingers tightly and brushed his cheeks against the Doctor's shoulder.

"Jack please..." snivelled the Doctor into his cushion while his twitching shoulders seemed to try to shake off Jack, "It hurts... it hurts so much... please Jack, stop..."

Jack caressed the Doctor's shoulders tenderly while he sat up again. His whimpering friend clutched to his cushion as he tried to pull out of him rather violently.  
He heard the Doctor whining syllables as "no", "stop" and "please" over and over again while wincing at the stinging pain Jack inflicted him unintentionally.

Jack rested on the Doctor's trembling body and sighed as an expression of displeasure.

"Please Jack," the Doctor howled into his cushion "You're hurting me... please stop..."

"We'll have to wait till the swelling subsides" stated Jack firmly while he tried to comfort the Doctor "I'll pull out of you as soon as possible."

The Doctor nodded quietly and swallowed hard. He wiped away the tears with his cushion.  
"You've never said something like this ever before," said the Doctor through gritted teeth as he tried to chuckle.  
Jack sighed uneasily and tried shifting on top of the Doctor.

The moment seemed to last forever and while every minute tried to expand into infinity Jack prayed that his throbbing cock would finally go limp.  
But it just wouldn't.

Jack tried to make the best out of it and massaged the Doctor's back intensively but with care.  
The Doctor beneath him moaned because he didn't know any better. He groaned under compulsion because he wanted Jack to relax eventually and beside the obvious reason why he wanted him to become calm he didn't want to unsettle Jack.  
The cramp was annoying and the Doctor hated himself for his own bodily reactions.  
But he didn't want Jack to feel uneasy about it.  
It was his own fault, not Jack's.

"It's my fault isn't it?" asked Jack as if he'd been reading the Doctor's mind but wouldn't be able to interpret it correctly "I shouldn't have done that to you. You always tell me that a Time Lord's body wasn't meant to be penetrated."

"Yes, but I say that because I know that it turns you on," replied the Doctor. He breathed out deeply and tried to keep a cool head. "Jack, that's got nothing to do with you. I'm... I'm strained or tensed or whatever... look, I know that I sound like an idiot but it's not easy to appear serious and staid when there's a man lying on top of you while your own cramped cavity refuses him to leave your body...but Jack... it's not your fault. And I know that you'd never hurt me on purpose. So just relax and try to think of something that doesn't arouse you..."

The Doctor smiled, Jack could hear him smiling; though he knew that the Doctor put much effort in acting calm and composed.

Another minute, which felt like an eternity, had passed and the Doctor dug his fingernails into his sheet before shifting hectically beneath Jack.

"Oh, you bloody human beings from the fifty-first century; you can't get turned off, can you? I have enough of this, Jack. The pain is bad, but I think I can stand it. What I can't stand is waiting, I'm not meant to be waiting for anything! Boredom is killing me! So please get on with it and the sooner we're done here the sooner I can start treating my wounds."

"Doctor, you can't beg me for pulling it out, it won't work," explained Jack and sighed while rolling his eyes, "Just try to calm down and be patient."  
"I'm not meant to be patient," snorted the Doctor, "If I'd had a second name it would have been 'Impatience'! And I didn't want you to unplug me, I wanted you to finish what you've started!"  
Jack tried appeasing the Doctor: "I don't think this is a good idea..."

"Shut up!" snapped the Doctor, "You may be on top, but I'm the superior race so do as I say!"  
"Is this the pain or your impatience talking?" asked Jack as he tried positioning himself over the Doctor again.  
"Both," was the Doctor's muffled reply as he pressed his aching body flatly onto the sheet, "And now stow it!"

Jack breathed in deeply and placed his palms on the Doctor's shoulder blade.  
"As you wish..." he wheezed and thrust his hips against the Doctor's backside. He waited for the Doctor to coil up, to wince in pain or screaming at him in agony.  
But none of it happened.  
"Didn't I tell you to keep on moving?" was the Doctor's annoyed question from underneath. Jack chuckled as the Doctor added in a slinky voice, "I told you that I have no trouble taking you in."

"Yes," panted Jack as he picked up the pace and felt the Doctor curving his back and elevating his hips in order to make the penetration smoother, "But you sure have a lot of trouble letting me withdraw."

"Oh, the Captain let's his little soldier withdraw," mocked the Doctor and giggled beneath Jack.  
"If he was so little, why wouldn't you just let him leave?" countered Jack. He felt the tension leaving the Doctor's body as he thrust in again more energetic.

"I like the way you're poking me Jack," mumbled the Doctor and Jack wondered if this had been an answer to his question or just some of the aroused thoughts the Doctor couldn't restrain.

The bed squeaked rhythmically and the Doctor pondered if Jack had had them installed so he'd always know when someone was doing it in Torchwood; either the members with each other or with an alien that would have needed medical treatment instead of a good screw.

The Doctor groaned aloud and Jack joined into his moaning, both of them increasing their lustful whispers as well as their yearning groans.  
Jack loved to hear the Doctor beg, he loved those sweet noises from underneath him and even though the Doctor had started mumbling and pleading in Gallifreyan again Jack knew that the Doctor was pleading for more, that he was literally screaming for the forbidden things, the things he'd chasten himself later on for commiting.  
But everything on the Doctor was screaming for more, just more and more; Jack increased his speed and forced himself into the Doctor deeper and deeper, he could hear him gasping for air as he struggled under Jack's weight but still he wouldn't stop; still he wouldn't stop to demand more.

The Doctor craved for pleasure, he longed for Jack to fulfil his unspoken desires. The Doctor wasn't undersexed; he was simply not getting used often enough.  
Jack rammed his cock deeper into the Doctor's tight hole and pressed the Doctor's chest down onto the sheets firmly; the Doctor loved to be dominated and suffocated, he would get harder whenever Jack pressed the air out of his lungs and Jack himself savoured the sight of a begging and pleading Doctor.

He felt the Doctor beneath him tightening again as waves of lust and exertions rushed through the Doctor's body; the Doctor moaned with his head in the cushion and Jack could feel him ejaculating onto the sheets. He fondled the twitching body tenderly before picking up the pace again; the Doctor wouldn't stop thrusting his hips against the mattress and humping it lost in pleasure.

Jack whispered tempting words into the Doctor's ear as he elicited a feral snarl and presented his body to Jack, he kept his rear limbs extended while his hips rose, and buried his head deeper in the cushion.  
Jack loved it when the Doctor thrust out his seductive buttocks; he had trained the Doctor hard over the past few years, he had taught him that he'd make it a lot easier for him to penetrate him when the Doctor would hold still and go on all fours voluntarily in the first place; and every time the Doctor would present his divine body to him and posture himself in front of him shamelessly he'd obtain sexual rewards from Jack.

Jack didn't care if this was some kind of Pavlovian conditioning neither did he care if some would have considered it to be pretty sick.  
He had found a way of loosening up a Time Lord and he was proud of it. And the Doctor had always enjoyed getting taken advantage of. In fact he'd always yearned for Jack's displays of affection.

Jack's presence resembled tenderness. And Jack had always caressed him.  
He never would have hurt him...

Jack nearly climaxed and sensed the Doctor pushing his rear end against his pelvic area, the Doctor panted beneath Jack as he pushed deeper.

He stopped; and felt his warm semen spurting out into the Doctor's small cavity with delight. Several hot drops gushed out of the Doctor's sore hole as Jack finally unplugged his cock.

And the Doctor had rippedopen the pillowslip as he cried in agony beneath him.

* * *

The Doctor panted heavily as his eyes seemed to slip open inadvertently.

"Oh no... No, that's not good... oh no... Jack, hand over the lens tubus! Quick!"  
"Sorry Martha... I didn't mean..."  
"Oh my God, what's happened?!"  
"I... I didn't know he..."  
"What the hell were you doing? I told you that he needed rest! And that rash... I told the Doctor that the rash looked terrible. But he wouldn't listen! He just wouldn't listen, this stubborn idiot thinks he knows it all!"  
"Martha..."  
"Well, he doesn't! Goddamn it Doctor, you're making me mad! And he won't even hear me! Even now he's not listening to me."

The Doctor tried to swallow but failed.  
Something was blocking his throat.

"He's going to be okay, isn't he? Tell me he's going to be okay!"  
"Oh just shut up for a moment, will you? Sorry Jack... I didn't mean to shout... He seems more or less stable. I'll check on him quarter-hourly. And you need to get back to work. And take that _thing_ with you, will you?"  
"But Martha I can't just let him..."  
"Just go Jack! He needs rest."

Footsteps dwindled into nowhere as one of the two silhouettes beside the Doctor vanished into the background. The other blurred figure stepped forward. The Doctor felt gloved hands caressing his cheeks and wanted to scream only to find a plastic tube in his throat.  
He'd been intubated. Again.  
And now they were going to...

"Doctor."  
The Doctor opened his eyes to find Martha standing beside him. She hadn't stopped caressing his cheeks.  
"For heaven's sake, Doctor," she whispered and stared at him with sad eyes, "What's happening to you?"


	23. Recess

"TSS."

The Doctor caught a glimpse of Martha standing in front of his bed as soon as he'd opened his eyes.  
He growled, unable to verbalize something more friendlily, and shifted his head on the pillow.

"You suffered a toxic shock syndrome. You're lucky you made it."

The Doctor felt the syllables that formed 'luck-y' swirling around in his head for quite some time. Normally he couldn't get his head around things; this time it was the other way round. The word was stuck in his head and the word wouldn't manage to get itself around the Doctor.  
Or it was simply the dizziness talking while he wasn't nearly half awake.

It seemed that 'lucky' wasn't quite the word to describe his current state.  
In no way.  
He'd been degraded, he'd been defiled, he'd been cut open, rearranged, sutured, cut open again, treated with wrong meds, and after not being able to escape dreadful nightmares he was finally awake, only to hear that he was nearly overtaken by death and just escaped with his life.

Really lucky me, thought the Doctor bitterly.  
He tried to ignore the stinging pain in his pelvic region and lower abdomen.

"TSS..." repeated the Doctor and tried to sit up as Martha persuaded him to lie back a little while longer, mainly by pressing her hands against his chest.  
The Doctor felt his breath being taken out of his lungs and rested on the sheets while running his fingers through his head.

His mind was beginning to work as fast, somersaulting and inaccurately as always.

"But a toxic shock syndrome is caused by...by...by bacterial toxins. Mostly Staphylococcus aureus and Streptococcus pyogenes, I reckon. It spreads fast, which means that infection has taken place around... well, at the earliest as you tucked me into this bed, but I doubt that, the rash wasn't worse than before, there was no decrease in the blood pressure, my body temperature wasn't rising until Jack... we'll leave that part out... where were we, of course, the rest of the symptoms..."

" _I know_ the symptoms of a TSS, Doctor" interrupted Martha and thereby silenced the Doctor "And please try to relax. You need lots of rest."

"No, Miss Jones, all that I need is my Tardis and the fastest way out of this alien prison. I won't stay here where my life lies in the hands of so-called human physicians."  
The Doctor's reply was straight forward. But it was his earnestness that scared Martha.  
"And it's not my fault that I nearly suffered the fatal consequences of a contamination, that's your problem, Miss Jones, and if you would be so kind as to let me get to my feet..."

The Doctor insisted on sitting up and though he was weakened Martha struggled to keep him from getting into an upright position.  
Time Lord's muscles, she hissed barely audible, bigger on the inside too.

"It's got nothing to do with contamination," replied Martha after stepping back from the resisting Time Lord.  
She rubbed her strained ankles.  
"You infected me," stated the Doctor with razor-sharp accuracy.

"No. It wasn't me. It was Jack."

"Jack?" replied the Doctor as the coldness melted in his stare.  
Martha nodded.  
"On purpose?" added the Doctor wondering.

Martha sighed.  
"As a Time Lord, Staphylococcus aureus and Streptococcus pyogenes wouldn't affect you; or maybe they would, but not under those circumstances. Well, you're the only Time Lord left and you hadn't had been infected by those bacteria, have you? So we won't know until we give it a try..."  
Martha shook her head and paused while giving the Doctor a displeased glare, secretly blaming him for her nonsense-talking;  
"The point is: Toxic shock syndrome isn't too different from an allergy; you can easily mistake it for one during one of its earlier stages. And we've detected antibodies in your blood. Antibodies against human bacteria..." Martha swallowed, though the following explanation wasn't easily swallowed, and definitely not by the Doctor"...and human protein."

The Doctor's mad rustling gear drive machine in his head, called his mind, was running at full blast as the Doctor tried to digest the reply.  
Or, in fact, _not_ digest it.

"So what you _want_ to tell me is that it's my own fault that I had a toxic shock syndrome, or an allergic shock, or a warped offspring of both of them, because I slept with Jack. Isn't it, Martha Jones?!"

The Doctor stared at the floor in embarrassing silence.  
Martha didn't even dare to breathe audibly.

"I never said it was your fault," she stated quietly as she didn't want to upset the Doctor more than necessary, "I only wanted to make clear that it had nothing to do with the treatment neither with the meds. But I don't blame you."

The Doctor sighed.  
"And it would be a lot easier for _me_ if I could blame you."

Martha's stare sagged; the Doctor couldn't hide his sadness, not from her.  
Though he kept on trying.

"Where's Jack?" he asked in a half-hearted attempt to pick up the conversation again.

"I don't know," replied Martha "I think... I sent him away."  
"He always gets in the way, doesn't he?" sighed the Doctor.

The uneasy, thick silence weltered through the room.

"Should I call for Jack?"  
The Doctor nodded without raising his head; it seemed as if he hadn't moved at all.  
Martha wasn't sure if the Doctor had actually given her a nod.  
But she felt that he had wanted to.  
"Now?" Martha went on.  
The Doctor assented motionless.

"Should I tell him about it?"

"I don't know" was the Doctor's tear-choked reply as he lifted his head to face Martha.  
But the Doctor remained stony-faced. He cried motionless as hot streams trailed down his red and hollow eyes.

"I think we should both talk to him" concluded Martha "for the better of the two of us."

"Martha?"  
Martha was already halfway through the door as the Doctor's harrowing voice stopped her once more.  
She paused attentive.  
"In case I have failed to do anything right so far... to say anything the right way..." the Doctor's voice trailed off as he was lost in thought again.

"Yes?" said Martha and thereby tried to speed up the conversation.

"Do you have any advice for me? Just in this case, or in general... I don't care. Any form of advice?"

Martha searched her mind for the one thing the Doctor would have needed right now. The one sentence, probably the one word that would assure the Doctor, that would give him hope, that would make him feel less lonely and disgusting and awkward and...

"You'd be better off with using a condom next time."

Martha winced at her own harshness.

"Thank you, Martha."

The Doctor's sad reply was nothing but an unsettled whine.

Martha could have bitten off her tongue as she hurried down the corridor.

That definitely hadn't been what he'd wanted to hear.


	24. Map of the Problematique

Stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID!

Martha couldn't stand her own stupidness, and she was too stupid to realise that this wasn't even a proper word.  
Giving the Doctor advice was a once in a lifetime chance.  
And she'd just blown it.

He had asked her _.  
He_ had asked _her_ for advice and she had retorted a recommendation... no, a crude and tasteless remark.  
Martha ran with open eyes even though she wouldn't see the corridor anymore; she was lost in her own anger and frustration. She breathed out through gritted teeth and clenched her fists.

Maybe the Doctor had been right, she pondered; maybe he'd be better off without the stupid bloody humans like her constantly around him...

Lost in thought Martha cannoned into a muscled chest and lifted her head as she rubbed her neck.

"Jack..." she mumbled and considered the thoughts that had rummaged around in her head; unnerved she pushed him aside "Jack, get out of my way, I'm busy..."

Martha stumbled past Jack and tried to remember where she was heading, what she was looking for... the Doctor had asked her to fetch her something though she couldn't quite...

"What's wrong with the Doctor?"  
Martha came to notice that something withheld her; something that could be only described as a strong hand of Jack which stabilized its increasing grip on her shoulder.

"Ouch, Jack you idiot," Martha slapped his fingers irritably "I told you, I'm in a hurry. If you would just let go off me..."

She wrapped her fingers round his palm and detached Jack's hand from her arm by a hand movement she had learned during self-defence training.

"Is the Doctor alright?" snapped Jack and rubbed his twisted wrist.  
"Yes, everything's fine if you just would stop bothering me..."  
Martha's hands clutched at her forehead.

Where was she heading again? What was she looking for? She was supposed to retrieve something to the Doctor because he...

"Is he awake? May I see him?"  
Martha turned around to Jack who wouldn't stop bugging her.  
"Jack, please...!" she massaged her temples and tried to remember where she'd been heading to.

"But what about the Doctor?"

Martha took a sharp breath and raised her head to face Jack who jumped at the sight of her shirty glare.

She folded her arms enraged and yelled at him: "Just stop bugging me, okay?"  
Then she turned on her heel and rushed off into a different direction, leaving a puzzled Jack all by himself.

Jack watched her hurrying aimless through several doors before pushing him out of her way again.  
He shrugged.  
At least mentally (which was quite an accomplishment; the Doctor would have been proud of him; if he'd be in the right frame for that at the moment).

Jack didn't blame Martha for being helplessly overstrained and restless; in fact he didn't even mind her shouting at him.  
He knew that Martha hadn't left the Doctor's side since the... well, "accident" would work quite well for Jack.  
Martha had stayed by the struggling Doctor; though thereby she'd missed the end of her shift and had worked incessantly through her sleeping hours until her next shift had begun.  
But Martha hadn't cared about that, neither had she cared about sleeping; and neither did Jack care about her being running on empty.

Jack advanced the Doctor's room slowly. He wasn't sure about the Doctor's condition and therefore he approached with mixed feelings.

The sound of Martha opening innumerable doors and rushing trough them (as part of her endless journey) disappeared slowly, swallowed up by the usual hospital sounds.  
Though this kind of 'hospital' wasn't what you would have called usual (unless of course you'd regard a Draconian as a typical patient), the sounds were it nonetheless.

The beeping sounds of the ECG monitors were the same, as well as the moaning of the alien patients whose central venous catheters had been inserted by unpractised hands.

The door was slightly ajar.  
Jack moved closer and gave it a gentle push; the door swung back and creaked.

The Doctor was kneeling on the floor. No, he wasn't kneeling; he was sitting in front of his bed, his head was turned towards the ruffled sheets; the Doctor sat on the floor with his legs slightly separated as he rested on his thighs, his lower legs spreading away from each other;  
the scene was nothing more but a twisted image to Jack; the Doctor didn't look real;  
It didn't look like _his_ Doctor. His Doctor was taller.

But it wasn't about his body height. This Doctor was slumped.  
He looked weak. He looked vulnerable.

Violative.  
The word struck Jack like a lightning as the Doctor shifted a bit uneasy, too weak to press his legs together in order to get up into a kneeling position again.

The Doctor looked violative. He _was_ violative. He was...

Jack closed the door quietly.

Apart from a grey washed t-shirt the Doctor was naked.  
It made him appear even seelier.

The Doctor's blanket was down on the floor as well and the Doctor struggled to get it back into place as well as get back into bed.

Jack took a step forward and approached the Doctor cautiously.

"Stop."

Jack froze instantly at the cold demand. The silent room grew quieter as the Doctor waited for any kind of reaction.  
He was waiting; at least it was what Jack suspected.  
He breathed in deeply and stared at the strange figure of the Doctor in front of him.  
Somehow he reminded him of someone else.

The Doctor was the 'Resigned Sorrow's personification.  
And he was frighteningly good.

He was cold. But he had given in.  
He spoke clearly but aware that he wasn't in charge.  
The cold demand had been a helpless plea.

"Don't come near me," whispered the Doctor and pulled on the blanket he'd put back onto the mattress again. It slid down onto his knees.  
He pushed it aside wearily.

"You enjoy it, don't you?" asked the Doctor and was obviously suppressing the tears that had formed in his eyes, "You like to see me like this; helpless and weak, right in front of you, yours to take."

Jack gasped in astonishment and clenched his fists without even noticing it. He wondered what the Doctor was talking about.  
Or, rather, _whom_ he was addressing.

"I know that you're there," the Doctor went on in a tired voice, "And you can stay silent if you want to. I sense you nonetheless. I can feel you right behind me. I can smell you..."

The Doctor took a sharp breath as his upper part of the body collapsed onto the mattress; helplessly he tried moving towards the bed with his widespread legs.

"You enjoy the smell of me too, don't you?" the Doctor went on and lifted his head on the sheet only to turn it aside, making it easier for Jack to understand him.  
"You enjoy me. You enjoy me as your prey."

Jack held his breath and approached the Doctor in silence. The Doctor winced at the footsteps right behind him.  
As if Jack had touched a wall; as if he had hit a barrier and was breaking right through it.

"Why?"

The Doctor continued in a lower voice after another question that had struck Jack like a thunderbolt.

"Why are you doing this to me? Why do you savour the look of me, the look of my harassed body? Why do you enjoy it? Do you enjoy humiliating me?"

Jack was quite sure that the Doctor had mistaken him for someone else. Or at least he hoped so.  
No, the Doctor would never talk to him like that. Not his Doctor. He was addressing someone else, someone who'd hurt him. Someone the Doctor had refused to talk about for quite too long.  
And though Jack had an inner feeling that he should clear up the Doctor's fallacy he didn't.

He wanted to know.  
Strange feelings arose in him as he heard the Doctor talking like that.  
He didn't like what the Doctor said; it made it hard for him to control his anger.

But he liked the Doctor finally talking to him; finally speaking out on it.

"I can't even protect myself from you," the Doctor went on weakly and there was a hint of a distressing chuckle after the words he spoke, "And you rather like that, don't you? You like it when I'm defenceless, when I can't put up a fight against you... you like my fragile body; laying your hands on my delicate and fragile body."

The Doctor sobbed; but as he breathed out he chuckled again. The Doctor had to be smiling, Jack could hear him smiling as he spoke. And he was really content with not seeing the Doctor's face right now. It would have been a sight too terrifying for Jack.

A hollow face, a distorted mirror of the Doctor's face, smiling and crying at the same time, glowing with unlimited fear as hopeless senselessness joined in.

The Doctor must have lost his hope.  
Or his mind.  
Or both.

"It's so strange..." whispered the Doctor before he turned his head a bit; Jack gasped at the mere thought of the Doctor discovering him standing right behind him. But the Doctor stopped in midmotion, as if he had changed his mind. He winced as a tremor spread through his body.

"Usually you don't wait that long. But you're enjoying my growing fear, aren't you? You wait for me to panic, wait for me to make a helpless attempt to escape you when I know that you can't be escaped. You'll always find me.  
No door is locked for you. No spot is hidden. You'll even find me in my Tardis.  
Are you craving for me? You're craving for me; I can sense your controlled desperation. And I'm left with nothing by anxiety..."

The Doctor twitched and breathed in deeply; a suppressed groan left his dry lips shortly afterwards.  
There was the sound of water trickling and the Doctor hissed in pain.

Jack held his breath as the Doctor moaned.

The Doctor's fingers buried themselves in the sheets as the Doctor leaned further forward, resting his upper part of the body again on the mattress.  
The splashing noise grew louder. Or at least it became more apparent to Jack.

"Do you enjoy watching me pee?"

The Doctor's voice had regained its strange fearsome madness while his words were as sharp as a razor blade. And they stung.

Footsteps approached the Doctor for the last time before two hands were carefully lowered onto his shoulders.

The Doctor lifted his head as the inevitable defilement of his own body had stopped. His gaze reached for the fingers placed on his shoulders.

"I'm so sorry."

Jack's tear choked voice behind him made the Doctor shudder; he froze in the same way Jack had frozen at his helpless demands.

Jack's knees touched the Doctor's back as he knelt down behind him, as he wrapped his arms around his beloved Doctor and pressed the Doctor's fragile upper part of the body against his own.  
The Doctor flinched at Jack's grip tightened around his ribcage. He couldn't hold back his tears any longer.

"I'm sorry," whispered Jack again and ruffled the Doctor's hair as he tried comforting the Doctor, "I'm so sorry..."

The Doctor started crying and buried his face in Jack's shoulder, turning around only slightly while pressing his back against Jack's stomach. He warmed his cold body on Jack's.

Jack caressed the Doctor's chest cautiously and stroked his cheeks, wiping away hot streams of tears.

Jack lowered his head a bit and kissed the sobbing Doctor's neck.

"Let me help you."

* * *

Martha had stepped into the scene after Jack had already cleaned the Doctor and tucked him into bed. The Doctor had fallen asleep after he'd stopped crying, but the tears wouldn't stop running down his cheeks, not even while he was unconscious.

Jack kicked the towels on the floor aside. The blood smeared stains had nearly disappeared.

Martha peered hard at Jack and her quiet patient.

"He's asleep," mumbled Jack and stepped aside from the Doctor, in case he was in Martha's visual field. Martha nodded and came closer.  
"That's never a good sign."  
She touched the Doctor's fore head and stroked his moist cheeks.

Martha had learned from her mistakes; therefore she wasn't going to ask Jack "What happened?" because she secretly knew that she didn't want to know. Jack's glare and the suspicious blots on the floor had been more than a hint.

"What are we going to do?" asked Martha and stared at Jack.  
Jack had folded his arms and approached the sleeping Doctor, facing Martha motionless.  
But Martha could tell that he'd cried.  
"He wants to be back in his Tardis," stated Jack quietly, "And who am I to turn down his request?"  
"He can return as soon as he gets better," replied Martha and turned back the sheets. She took a close look at the rash on the Doctor's chest before moving to the bed side table and rubbing an ointment of dubious origin on it.  
"It's the gloves," Martha sighed, "If I hadn't been wearing gloves I would have noticed it earlier. Then his skin would have started itching as soon as I had felt his pulse."

"I think the Doctor knows what's best for him," Jack picked up the previous topic again. Martha didn't take her eyes off the Doctor and fumbled around with his blanket.  
"I don't think so," was all she replied after a while.

"He talked to you," stated Jack, "The Doctor trusts you. And he talked to you about something that I shouldn't know."  
Martha smiled: "There's no sense in denying that, is there?"

Martha took a quick glance at Jack who stood beside her with arms akimbo and an earnest face.

"I don't care if he trusts you more than me," said Jack and Martha knew by the look at his eyes that he lied, "But I don't believe that he should stay here. He's uncomfortable with being treated as a patient."  
"He isn't treated as a patient he _is_ a patient, Jack," replied Martha.  
"Well, he shouldn't be your patient," snapped Jack. Martha narrowed her eyes at him.  
"Neither should he be anyone's patient," Jack went on, "The Doctor knows what's best for him. And I won't be standing in his way."  
"We'll keep him here and that's that!" snarled Martha and cleared her throat before continuing less agitated, "Until he gets better."

Jack shook his head and glared at Martha. "The Doctor can take care of himself."  
"If he could then he never would have asked you for help," replied Martha in a huff.  
"And I'm telling you, that Time Lord is staying. We can't let him leave. He's injured, he's hurt he is..."  
Martha broke off in midsentence and sighed.  
"I know that," replied Jack.

No you don't, Martha hissed through gritted teeth, you have no idea how hurt he is and why his body won't be getting better but worse for quite some time now!

"It's none of your business, Martha," decided Jack eventually, "It's my decision when he's allowed to leave this place, and I think that it is the right time for him to leave as soon as he wakes up again."

"But you can't do that!" snapped Martha "You can't let him leave when he wants to. He needs medical assistance. He needs help!"

"And I'm going to help him!" bellowed Jack.

Martha stared in shocked silence at Jack before she cocked an eyebrow at him. Jack had never yelled at her before. She didn't mind him screaming; but she did mind having a love-crazed Jack who was in charge. And she didn't want him to take the Doctor's fate into his own hands.  
For both the Doctor's and his sake.

"You're doing the wrong thing," replied Martha.  
"I don't care what you say," snapped Jack, "If the Doctor needs you he will ask for your help. Or he'll ask me to ask you for help. But I won't let him stay here so that you can examine him as per your convenience... that you can lock him up... that you can _keep_ him..."

Jack hadn't quite digested Martha's unfortunate choice of words.  
And Martha would leave nothing undone to reprove Jack.

"I didn't mean that we should lock him up like an animal by saying that we should 'keep him' here," Martha defended herself, "It implied that we should keep him as a patient."

"Thank you for your medical opinion on this patient, Miss Jones," replied Jack, "But I'm afraid I have to inform you that he is not longer your patient."

Martha folded her arms and faced Jack's cold stare.  
"Fine," she concluded eventually, "I know that the Doctor will ask me for help if he needs me. And I know that you're doing the wrong thing. But nobody listens to me."

"Thank you Miss Jones," repeated Jack and watch Martha leaving the room.

"You'll regret it," hissed Martha before slamming the door.

The Doctor opened his eyes in an instant.


	25. Madness

"I'm sorry," Jack scuttled over to the Doctor's side and touched his hands as the Doctor looked around irritated, "She shouldn't have done that."

"It's alright," replied the Doctor wearily and yawned.  
He stretched and sat up, visibly puzzled.

"But wasn't there something... you know, like an old saying about not waking a sleeping Time Lord?"  
Jack tried to smile and the Doctor appreciated his attempts of lifting his mood.  
"Yes, of course, that you shouldn't wake him unless you've got tea for him," added the Doctor and brought himself to a smile. Or at least he tried very hard.  
"So, do you have tea for me?"

Jack chuckled and pulled the Doctor nearer.  
The Doctor yawned once more.

"Still tired?" asked Jack.  
The Doctor nodded but changed his mind and shook his head instead.  
"No I... I don't know... I mean, I'm not meant to sleep. I mean, have you seen me sleeping, Jack?"  
"Yes, Doctor, you were fast asleep," Jack assured him.  
"But generally... I think I don't sleep. At least not regularly. Or at least not regularly often. I guess I don't need that much sleep..."  
The Doctor got cut off by another yawn.  
Jack smiled.

"Should I leave you alone?" he asked and caressed his cold and skinny fingers "Do you want to sleep some more?"  
"No," was the Doctor's answer to both of the questions, "I don't like sleeping very much. I don't even think sleeping is doing anything. I mean, nothing at all."  
Jack patted the Doctor's knuckles; he was still smiling.  
"Are you always this confused after waking up?" he asked.  
"I'm not confused," countered the Doctor, "I'm slightly distracted only. And that's what I hate about sleeping; you get up only to be tired again. If you don't sleep then you're not tired."  
"Yeah," replied Jack, "And dead."

"Only you bloody humans," the Doctor stretched again and collapsed back onto the cushion.  
A pair of tired hazel eyes stared at Jack irritably, disquietingly searching his gaze.  
Jack knew how to read the Doctor. Though he didn't have the kind of psychic power (or telepathic waves, or pervasive penetrating eyes or whatever it was that he encountered) to look into other people's minds, he knew what the Doctor thought.  
Well, Jack must have been blind to overlook it.

"What was your quarrel all about?" asked the Doctor.  
Jack sighed. He hadn't even started talking earnestly, he hadn't even bugged the Doctor with just one serious question and he was already changing the subject. He changed the subject before the first one had been established.

"Doctor, I know that you don't want to talk about it," said Jack bluntly, which earned him a thoughtful stare from the Doctor, "but I... I can't ask you, I can't beg or implore you to tell me... if those lips want to stay sealed they'll be sealed until the end of time and space... but please... I...How do you beg someone for something without begging?"  
"You don't, Jack," replied the Doctor and sighed, "And you are an idiot."  
"Doctor, I'm serious."  
"You don't talk as if you were serious."  
"Because I don't want to hurt you."

The Doctor opened his expressive eyes wide and stared at Jack.  
"Hurt me?" he whispered, mouthing the syllables repeatedly.

"I'd hurt you if I'd ask you what's happened to you," stated Jack firmly and found himself staring at his feet, "or if I'd ask you who you were talking to."

The last sentence had made an impact on the Doctor.  
He stared at Jack wide-eyed as if struck by a thought. Or unable to put something correctly back and together.

The Doctor wouldn't speak up so Jack probed further: "Did you tell Martha? Does she know? What did you tell her?"

"I can't tell you," snapped the Doctor and drew a sharp breath.  
Jack could have sworn that the Doctor's eyes had flickered for a moment, that they had shown signs of uneasiness, or to be more precise: unsteadiness.

"I can tell you one thing that I know, Jack," stated the Doctor after calming down, "Just one thing and you're not going to be satisfied with it."  
"What?" asked Jack.  
The Doctor leaned back and sighed.

"I don't know."

"Just tell me," Jack went on.  
The Doctor rolled his eyes and folded his arms in front of his chest.  
"I just did. I don't know Jack, alright? I don't know who did this to me."  
"But he's got access to the Tardis," Jack blurted out.  
"Yes, that's right Jack. He's found me inside of the Tardis and outside of the Tardis. He's taken me with him or just..." the Doctor broke off in mid-sentence.

"Or just what?" asked Jack.  
The Doctor narrowed his eyes at him and snarled: "Well, what do you think?"  
Jack flinched before reaching for the Doctor's hands and kissing them tenderly.  
"Sorry," he muttered.  
"Well, he's taken me outside of the Tardis and he's taken me inside of the Tardis, in order to avoid misunderstandings," the Doctor went on. He freed his hands and folded his arms again.

"I said I'm sorry, Doctor," stated Jack.

"Fine, I'll forgive you," snapped the Doctor, "And if you don't mind I'd like to change the subject. For you it may be different but I don't like talking about getting used and abused against my free will."  
"But you know that we'll have to talk about it sometime," concluded Jack.

"What for?"

Jack looked puzzle. He searched the Doctor's gaze.  
"What for, Jack? That you can hear all of it? So that you'll know what he's done, and how he's done it and where he's touched me and how deep he got..."  
"Stop it!"demanded Jack "Just stop it, Doctor!"  
"Why do you want to know?" the Doctor went on and increased his grip on his own arms,  
"What for, Jack? Do you think you can help me by talking to me? I'll help myself, no assistance needed.  
I don't need it. I don't need your advice, I don't need your suggestions, I'm not a believer of psychiatry, I've seen greater things, Jack, I know other things."

And with the one last sentence he really rubbed it in.  
"I don't need you, Jack."

Jack leaned back a bit. He folded his arms likewise.  
The Doctor could see in his face that Jack wasn't mad. It was far worse;  
He was earnest with him.  
"Why did you say that?" he asked calm and quietly.  
The Doctor hadn't hurt him, he could see that now. But he had proved that he had lost his self-control.

"I don't know," replied the Doctor after several sad sighs, "And I'm sorry. I don't know what's going on inside of me."

Jack eyed up the Doctor thoughtfully before answering: "Don't lie to me Doctor. The point is that you know what's going on inside of you but you don't want me to find out."

The Doctor sighed again: "Jack, I don't want to talk. Is that so hard to understand?"  
"How do you expect things to change if you don't talk to me?" asked Jack.

"What do I do if I tell you right now and nothing changes because it can't, Jack? What if I tell you everything, every small degrading part of the past few weeks, months or whatever it had been since the first time, and what if I degrade myself and open up to you, Jack, and in the end nothing changes and it stays the same?"

"It won't," replied Jack immediately, "Because I won't let that happen."

The Doctor snarled.  
There was a stinging pain in his lower abdomen... probably a side effect of the TSS or just a fall-out...  
The Doctor grunted.

Jack proved that human beings were created to be ignorant, dreamful and naive. And the Doctor felt taken back for a moment; knowing that simple-minded brainless creatures would be all he'd get to talk to; that those naive life forms would be his company, nothing but those stupid...

He snarled again after feeling a kick.  
Damn brat.  
And he came to the conclusion that he still preferred the company of humans over the company of a living thing inside of him that would kick him as soon as he'd try to forget about it.  
Or if he wasn't paying enough attention to it.

"Doctor I'm serious," repeated Jack ,"I mean it!"

The Doctor sighed.  
"I told you that nothing's going to happen even _if_ I told you about what happened. Some things can't be changed, they simply have to be. You know about the fixed point in history thing I always tell my companions about?"

"Yes," replied Jack, "And I know that you use that phrase when you're too lazy to even try to interfere with anything."

"The point is," the Doctor went on unperturbed, "the point is... I don't even see the point in explaining that to you, Jack. I don't want to talk about it. You can imagine what happened to me and it will or will not happen again. Period. It's got nothing to do with you Jack neither has it with me, these things simply happen, they can happen to anyone, these things happen every day and in case I've forgotten any of the other things you're supposed to say when someone got harassed let me know."

Jack shook his head slightly and tried to digest the Doctor's reply mentally as well as physically.  
After extracting the actual meaning from his lecture he countered:  
"But you won't keep me from bugging you."  
The Doctor folded his arms.  
"Just you wait," he replied with a slinky smile.

Jack arose from the bed, watching as those beautiful hazel eyes followed his every movement.

"You know that I have far more patience than you do, Doctor," explained Jack and folded his arms likewise. He chuckled.  
"So how do you think you're going to stop me from asking you unpleasant questions?"

The Doctor had nothing to reply. His mind was racing as he eyed up Jack speedily.  
He knew Jack. He knew Jack too well.

"Just by remaining silent? Do you think that will work? That I'll give up asking you about your assaulter because you won't answer me?" Jack shook his head, "Oh Doctor, you're really letting me down."

The Doctor growled.  
How should he be able to find a way of avoiding Jack's questions if he wouldn't shut up?

Hundreds of thoughts flashed through the Doctor's mind as he searched his consciousness.  
He just had to think properly...  
Jack had a weak spot, every human being had a weak spot, normally even more than one, and humans from the fifty-first century weren't that hard to crack.  
The Doctor had to find something to distract Jack, to take his mind off things...

He smirked.  
Well, usually there was no way of taking Jack's mind off _one thing_...  
Maybe he should just give it a try.

The Doctor breathed in deeply.  
Then he looked at Jack with beckoning eyes. He patted the sheet beside him and moved a bit to give Jack enough space to sit properly.

As soon as Jack was resting beside the Doctor he searched his gaze. The Doctor's face was hard to read, Jack had to admit, even though he had spent the last... well whatever amount of time had passed for his Time Lord. It felt like an eternity and it probably was one, too.  
The Doctor's mood must have changed somehow. He seemed...

"Jack?" the Doctor's voice was quiet and sounded as it had been lined with dark velvet;  
"Come closer, please..." the Doctor reached for Jack's hands and placed them on his chest before he wrapped his fingers around Jack's neck cautiously.  
Jack got pulled closer to him and he wouldn't stop until Jack's ear was nearly pressed against the Doctor's mouth.  
The Doctor chuckled.  
Only two words, he thought. Just two words...

"Please, Jack."

Jack backed away after hearing the Doctor's pleading voice. He searched his gaze irritated.  
The Doctor licked his lips and smirked.  
"Doctor?" asked Jack confused.  
"The same as always unless I've grown antlers," replied the Doctor in his normal voice because he couldn't bite back that piece of sarcasm.

But he got a grip on himself soon enough.

As Jack backed away the Doctor followed his every movement; he clutched at his arm and wouldn't stop moaning and begging.  
"Please Jack... please..."

Jack stopped shifting and increased his grip on the Doctor's arm, only to elicit an expectant groan.  
The Doctor's sudden and strange behaviour made Jack nervous.  
As if the Doctor wasn't himself...

Jack shook his head again.

The Doctor licked his lips uneasy and panted.  
"Jack," whispered the Doctor sweetly before lunging at Jack. He grasped Jack's shoulders and pulled him nearer again.

However, Jack remained unconvinced. The sudden change in the Doctor's mood could only mean one thing.  
Alright, two things.  
It was either a sign for a severe brain damage or the Doctor really tried to distract him.  
Either way Jack didn't quite like it.

"Jack, come on," the Doctor smiled huskily  
Then he tugged at Jack's shirt.  
"I thought the human being from the fifty-first century was always the first to get undressed."  
"Doctor I don't think you should..." Jack began but the Doctor placed an index finger over his lips and hushed him.

The Doctor's gaze sagged and he stared at Jack's chest, he stared right through his garment and felt his muscles with his eyes.

"Doctor, I mean it, do you think we..." Jack began once more but this time the Doctor stopped him by sealing Jack's lips with a kiss. The Doctor's kinky tongue slipped through Jack's half-heartedly sealed mouth and the Doctor licked Jack's teeth and let them touch tongue on tongue.

Finally Jack's boisterous sex-drive kicked in and Jack embraced the Doctor hastily, pressing the delicate and skinny body against his own, growing closer and closer with every breath, with every heated movement.  
Jack probed the Doctor's pelvis by thrusting his groin against the raving mad Doctor as his tongue pushed back the Doctor's to invade the Doctor's oral cavity instead.

The Doctor wouldn't pull away from Jack's kiss. His left hand reached for the bed side table and its drawers. He opened them hurriedly and palpated the insides cautiously.  
Jack lifted his head and panted while staring a horny and breathless Doctor in the eye.  
"What are you doing?"  
The Doctor kissed Jack's neck, he sucked at his skin, breathing in Jack's feral smell with every breath. He'd bury his teeth into Jack's flesh just to elicit another lust-driven gasp from him.  
"We're in bloody Torchwood," snapped the Doctor, "There ought to be a bloody condom somewhere around here..."

Jack panted for air and his mind was too dominated by his instincts in order to give a nasty reply, but he really should have snubbed the Doctor.  
The Doctor smiled viciously as his hand reached deeper towards the lowest drawer, while his other hand reached deeper on Jack.

Jack held his breath as he felt his pants tightening; the Doctor undressed Jack in a way and at a speed that would have made an average human being from the fifty-first century turn green with envy.  
The Doctor's practised hands reached for Jack's crotch and started massaging the beloved and highly valued flesh.

On the other hand the Doctor had finally discovered what he'd been searching for and had bitten down on the edge of the condom's packaging and ripped it open (without choking and spitting because he had swallowed the piece left in his mouth, as usual) and put the condom over Jack's rock hard cock in the blink of an eye.

Jack tried to breathe in deeply and intensified his grip on the Doctor's shoulders.  
"Doctor, you won't stop me from..." he panted heavily as the Doctor pushed Jack back and lay back on the bed, spreading his legs seductively for Jack.

Jack grunted, "That's cheating," and felt his hands reaching for the Doctor's irresistible thighs.  
The Doctor lifted his head a bit to look Jack directly into the eye.  
He smiled viciously and let his own hands trail down his inner thighs.

"You always said that it would be a lot easier for you to take me if I were naked all the time," chuckled the Doctor and drew a deep breath to whisper those sweet words Jack was literally dying for to hear. His upper part of the body rose a few inches from the sheets as he moved his body closer towards Jack.

"That's cheap and nasty," snapped Jack as his fingers palpated the Doctor's temptingly small and beloved cavity.  
"Oh no, that's not nasty," contradicted the Doctor.  
" _That's_ nasty."

The Doctor collapsed back onto the sheets and breathed in deeply before moaning in pleasure for Jack and pushing his rear end against Jack's groin rhythmically.  
Jack bit down on his lip and grabbed the Doctor around the hips.  
"Oh, you'll regret that!"  
"Make me regret that!" hissed the Doctor, nearly cutting off Jack.

The Doctor screamed impassioned as Jack moved against his body, as he felt Jack entering his body, pushing his way ruthlessly into his small and fragile hole.

The Doctor gasped for air and stared at Jack wide-eyed.  
And he couldn't repress a victorious smile to make an appearance on his lips.  
Finally he had Jack where he had wanted him. Jack was absorbed in his body... well, he was at least stuck in his body for quite a while and all the Doctor had to wait for was Jack's...

"Don't even think about it," moaned Jack as he shifted a bit and buried his thumbs in the Doctor's soft flesh beneath the upper parts of his hip bones. The Doctor cried out at the sudden pain but soon moaned as he was lost in the rising pleasure as well.  
He snarled at Jack and bit down on his neck as Jack dared to lean forward.  
"Don't think you can just keep me busy with humping your body," said Jack and held his breath as the Doctor buried his teeth in his skin to draw blood. Jack panted and pressed the Doctor down onto the sheets with increasing force.

"You'll have to do yours to earn your reward," panted Jack, "So be nice and try loosening yourself up a bit."

Jack paused in mid-motion and withdrew his throbbing member from the Doctor to position himself over him again.  
The Doctor wouldn't move on the sheets only to spread his legs further for Jack.  
The Doctor didn't speak.  
He panted breathless and moaned barely audible.  
But Jack could read the words forming on the Doctor's lips.  
Spurring him on. Begging him.  
Demanding.

"Deeper."

Jack re-entered the Doctor in one fast and painful movement to hear the Doctor underneath him screaming. The Doctor dug his nails into the sheets and hissed in pain before he tilted his pelvis and thrust against Jack's deep penetration.

"Oh, you'll so regret that!" snorted Jack.

Jack's rhythm was increasing and so was his horniness.  
He admired the Doctor's divine body. It seemed as if it was made especially for him; at least to satisfy his pounding urges.  
Though Jack had already taken the Doctor this day the Doctor was as tight as ever and it wasn't even a bit easier for Jack to squeeze in his swollen cock.

Jack grinned as he felt the Doctor harden beneath him.

"Shame on you, Jack," panted the Doctor; small beads of sweat were forming on his forehead and Jack ruffled his hair once more before he dared to push deeper into the alluring body.  
"No condoms in the two upper drawers. And where are you supposed to find them in the haste?"  
"Oh, I guess if you bend down and go really low you'll find them," Jack smirked.

The Doctor grabbed his own todger and started masturbating shamelessly in front of Jack.  
The sight of the self-playing Doctor made it rather hard for Jack to hold back.

"Safety first, Jack. Whether it's about aliens or sex; and especially when it's about sex with aliens."

"Why?" asked Jack and grunted. He was close to climaxing but he wanted to wait for the Doctor to come first. It was rather hard to push the Doctor to his limits when his limb was only half-hard.*

"I might be contagious," hissed the Doctor and licked his lips seductively.  
"Why, because you can't remember all their names? Because you wouldn't be able to recall how many species you've had and whose sticky tentacles you've given permission to penetrate your adorable body because you couldn't be satisfied?"

Jack's words had an effect on the Doctor. Not the desired effect, but an effect nonetheless.

The Doctor stared at Jack with his mouth open as Jack felt the pressure releasing inside of the Doctor.

The Doctor's face froze in shock and his eyes stayed fixed on Jack's broad smile.  
Though Jack wasn't quite satisfied with being the first one to come he was more than pleased with knowing that he was still able to gross out the Doctor.  
After all these years...and the things he'd already done to him...**

"You didn't just say that," snapped the Doctor and stared with disbelieving eyes at Jack, "You just didn't!"  
"Oh, I did and I'll do it again," replied Jack and leaned forward.  
Unable to learn from his mistakes the Doctor left another bite mark in Jack's neck.

Jack didn't mind it much due to the adrenalin rushing through his body.  
He moaned quietly into the Doctor's ear and reached for the Doctor's todger.  
The Doctor hissed and shifted uneasily beneath Jack's tight grip.  
The allergy (or whatever the damn thing had been) made an impact on the Doctor's genitals. In fact, his skin started itching and tingled all over his body... and especially where Jack touched him right now.

Though the Doctor intended to reach for Jack's hands he changed his mind; the pleasure-components in his otherwise cultivated Time Lord-mind had taken control and the Doctor gasped for air at the incredible feeling the prickling skin was giving him.

Jack picked up the pace as he jacked off the Doctor and the Doctor gasped for air, it seemed as Jack was choking him with the increasing speed and the growing pleasure he exposed the Doctor to.

He sure was glad that the Doctor had to hearts because he could have sworn that one of them had simply stopped as the Doctor moaned and climaxed underneath him.

Jack backed away cautiously and shifted a bit, afraid that his arms would give in any minute now and he'd collapse on top of the Doctor, crushing him inevitably.

The Doctor panted heavily as Jack removed his slightly swollen limb from the Doctor's tight hole.

The Doctor hadn't stopped gasping for air; now both his hearts were racing and he felt the last hot drops of his sensuality running down his declining erection.  
Jack wouldn't pass the opportunity to lick the Doctor's privates clean.  
And the Doctor hadn't even enough strength left in his hands to push away Jack's face.

But though the Doctor seemed weak and fragile at first sight he was sitting right in front of Jack with his legs crossed and removed the condom attentively with precise fingers.

He placed it on the bedside table.

"Do you want to keep it?" asked Jack puzzled.  
"Why not?" counter questioned the Doctor, "I can still swallow it as soon as the intolerance has vanished."  
"Really?" asked Jack beguiled.  
"Naw, just throw it away on the way out, will you, Jack?" replied the Doctor more earnestly; "I just wanted it to be out of reach so, you know... not that it drops to the floor and I step in it... you know, because of the... you know, the rash..."  
Jack sighed.

The Doctor smirked and watched Jack getting dressed again.  
"I guess you're more used to getting undressed than dressed," chuckled the Doctor.  
"Well, don't just stare at me," replied Jack, "you shouldn't waste time."  
"Am I wasting time?" asked the Doctor and pulled his knees up to rest his elbows on them.  
Jack considered his reply for a moment.  
"Sorry," he mumbled after a while and seemed to shift uneasy;

"Didn't I tell you that you're free to go?"

As soon as Jack had dressed the Doctor (it was too tempting just watching him getting dressed) he guided him to his Tardis in the subbasement.

Jack watched the Doctor with rising uneasiness as he unlocked the door.  
"So, I guess this is goodbye then," said Jack for the lack of anything better.  
"It's always 'Goodbye' with me," replied the Doctor instantly and added, after he'd peeked into the Tardis, "And shut up, Jack."

Jack gave the Doctor an understanding nod.  
"Oh, come on; don't make a fuzz about it," the Doctor rolled his eyes in annoyance ,"I'll be back before you know it. And you'll hardly miss me."  
Jack sighed and tried to avoid the Doctor's glare.  
"And you can always call me on the phone," the Doctor explained in a voice that he usually used to cheer up Jack.  
"How about that, Jack? Just give me a call when you're lonely."

"Doctor, all I want to say is..." Jack sighed as he felt his hands closing around the small jewellery box in his coat pocket.

"All you want to say is what, Jack?" the Doctor led him on.

Jack sighed and released his grip.  
Not now, was all he could think about.

"I just want to tell you that I'm happy that you're feeling better. Or less bad. And I'm happy to know that you're happy with being back in your Tardis. I'd do anything to make you happy."  
"It's my home, Jack" the Doctor stated firmly.  
Yeah, but it could be _our_ home, a voice snapped in Jack's head before Jack managed to gain back control over the naive romance talking inside of him.

"All I want to say is that I'm here for you. And that I'll always be there for you. And that I'm..."  
"Just hit the high points, Jack," sighed the Doctor as he leaned against the door frame.

"Right now I would say that I love you," began Jack distressingly earnest before he added hastily, "if I wouldn't know that it's the most stupid thing I'd be able to say to you in this current situation."

The Doctor smiled.  
He smiled faintly as a mild expression arose on his face.

"That's nice to know, Jack."  
"What?" asked Jack and stared at the Doctor wide-eyed.  
"That you know when to shut up in order to retain at least a dash of dignity... as much dignity as a human being from the fifty-first century can encounter..."

The Doctor chuckled.  
Jack could feel the air prickling right between them.

Say it! he heard the small voice of romance shouting in his head, Say that you love him!  
But Jack couldn't.  
He faced the other way as the Doctor bowed out with an encouraging "Goodbye, Jack."

Jack sighed; and he could have sworn that he had heard the Doctor sighing right behind him, too.

Just say it!

"Doctor I...!"

But as he turned around the door was shut.  
And there wasn't a sound from within.

* * *

*Though it mustn't be forgotten that a human being from the fifty-first century's definition of 'recreation' between two mates covered as much time as a bunny needs to chew up a carrot stick.

**which won't be described, and beside the fact that it would probably take up too much time and space in this story, they wouldn't be suitable for the average reader. But this much can be told: a sycamore had once been involved.


	26. Space Dementia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new species will be introduced.... and Jack finally brings up the courage to propose but he could have chosen the moment a bit more wisely...

The Doctor moved over to the controls, ready to set the Tardis off to another dimension... or century... or at least a different time zone.  
Just somewhere where he wouldn't be forced to see Jack.

The Doctor sighed as he rested on the settee.  
He'd never experienced travel sickness. But with that brat growing inside of him...  
The Doctor hoped; he just hoped that, at last, things wouldn't change from bad to worse.  
Though he knew that they always did.  
But he assumed that wasn't asking too much.

Well, he thought glumly, at least Jack could have cheered him up by actually making a fool out of himself.  
But he didn't.  
He didn't want to. And though the Doctor couldn't hold it against him he was still disappointed.  
If Jack only had the confidence to finally say it.  
Finally say those words with the meaning they should have...

The Doctor lifted his head as a familiar sound brought him back into the Tardis, back into the here and now.  
Wherever that was.  
He'd set the coordinates to random and would soon land on something so that he could step out of the Tardis and say things like, "Ah... the beautiful all-destructive rocks of Dh'Alenoxiys," or something else he'd just made up.

Coming to think about it, the Doctor had to admit that he would be actually leading a rather dull life without making it more interesting from time to time.

There was a quite purring noise which made the Doctor turn his head around.  
Tossing and squirming between the levers and buttons was...

"Hello little friend," the Doctor jumped from his seat and retrieved the paneopal puffy from underneath the switches.  
"That's not a safe place for sleeping."  
The small ball of fur had nothing to reply but a quite yawn and a rattling noise as the Doctor cradled it in his arms.  
"I bet Jack put you there because he didn't know what to do with you... Oo, what to do with you? Oooo, what to do with you?" The Doctor kept on cooing until the fuzzy creature curled up in his arms and the rhythm of its heart decreased.

The Doctor slowly went downstairs while he wouldn't stop stroking and cuddling his paneopal puffy.

After deciding that the cupboard wasn't an ideal place for his furry friend to sleep in, he turned left and headed over to stairs leading to the mezzanine, the only secret passage in the Tardis of whose existence the Doctor actually knew.  
(Of course there were innumerable other passages that the Doctor didn't even know existed. But he wasn't really interested in exploring the Tardis and falling into a hole where you'd might end up in another dimension where you were forced to walk around on your head or follow strange white creatures into small cavities.)

The Doctor typed in a code to unlock a sealed door. Normally he would have used his sonic screwdriver on it, causing the electronically locked door to emit delightful sparks in blue and purple.  
But being short of it he was forced to open it 'correctly'.

The Doctor sighed as he heard the unlocking sound.  
Well, where was the fun in that? he asked himself.

He pushed the door open and the rumbling from within stopped in an instant.  
The Doctor walked in slowly and squatted down near the door.

Cushions and small plastic toys of odd and dubious shapes were scattered around the room. Soothing music played quietly and the giant furry creature in the middle of the room had stopped moving but rocked a bit back and forth as it waited expectantly for a command.

The Doctor grabbed a colourful pillow, fluffed it up and placed the paneopal puffy carefully on top of it. He stroked it one last time before he gave a small sigh and focused on the creature in the middle.

The creature in fact was coming apart, disintegrating into a multitude of four legged, nosy and playful little beasts; each of them encountered two big and mournful eyes, glistening like an adorable pair of daedal emeralds. Their fur was the colour of butter caramel and after the first of them had dared to move the others followed and trotted towards the Doctor.

The Doctor watched the herd of *Baublee papals thoughtfully.  
The first that dared to approach him placed a foot... a paw... probably even a hoof** on one of his knees, possibly suggesting that the Doctor should kneel down. And stay.

One thing the Baublee papals had definitely learned: as long as you weren't standing on your own legs you couldn't run away...

The Doctor sighed and smiled reassuringly at the Baublee papal in front of him.  
It was one of the bigger ones. It must have been from the first litter, the Doctor assumed. There was a mere moment when he thought he'd once even bothered giving those creatures individual names...  
But he couldn't remember it; and it would have been stupid anyway.  
They looked all they same. In fact they were all the same.  
Whatever they were.

"Some other time," promised the Doctor as he stroked it behind its calf-like ears; a promise he knew he wasn't going to keep.  
He pushed his head against the little one's forehead and closed his eyes as he felt it pushing back strongly.

The Doctor smiled at the rest of the accumulation as they watched him with wondering eyes.  
"Be careful with it," he exhorted the first playful ones that gathered around the sleeping paneopal puffy. A Baublee papal's end-of-a-leg was placed on the small ball of fur before it stepped down on it.  
The paneopal puffy didn't budge. Neither produced it any sounds apart from its constant snoring.

The Doctor wasn't quite sure if the Baublee papals had understood his words; neither did he know if they bothered to understand him at all. After all they've once been nothing but his imagination, when he too was part of the non-existence of the universe.  
And he couldn't quite remember how he'd imagined them.

Well, at least they wouldn't be able to break the paneopal puffy. And in no way would they be able to wake it up.

A paneopal puffy – probably the best gift for a small child. Fuzzy, sleepy, nearly indestructible and without small parts that can be easily swallowed.  
If he would consider having children again, the Doctor reassured himself, he'd definitely try to build some more of them.

The Doctor sighed and petted one or two of the little ones that dared to approach him.  
His stare sagged back onto the untidy floor; he looked aside and watched the open door out of the corner of his eyes.  
His eyes closed. He sighed again.

A smaller and rather feeblish specimen of the strange species got picked up by the gloomy Doctor and was given a gentle belly-rub. It snorted delightfully.

The Doctor felt a soft kick in the stomach as the creature he had picked up moved its head repeatedly against his bulged abdomen.  
The Doctor hissed through gritted teeth and bit back a snarl.  
Of course... clever little bastards they were...

The Doctor's eyes had sagged again as he set the Baublee papal down again; it pushed against his hands eagerly.  
What are they for? the Doctor found himself wondering, They just grow up and break...

The Doctor turned around at the sudden creaking of the door behind him. The Baublee papal, that had peeked through it curiously got picked up firmly and shoved into its littermates' direction.  
"Stay in here," he commanded quietly and finally got to his feet.

Without much of a fuss the Doctor left the room, darting one last mournful glance at the scuffling creatures before he closed the door and typed in the code.

The Doctor sighed loud-voiced and placed one hand on the door as it sealed automatically.

"How long have you been following me?" he asked without even turning around.

The figure behind the Doctor didn't even shrug at his sudden remark.  
It knew it would have been detected sooner or later.

The Doctor found the lights around him dimming slowly. His head had sagged a bit as his eyes closed out of pure hopelessness.

"You stole my narcotics, didn't you?" he hissed between gritted teeth and assumed that the figure behind him had just nodded its assent.

"Then use them correctly."

* * *

A twinge flashed through the Doctor's body as he buckled forward.  
With his hands inevitably reaching for his back he managed to get his eyes open.  
He lay on the floor near the controls of the Tardis in a face-down position; his body wouldn't stop twitching.

The Doctor's eyes snapped open again as the pain in his lower abdomen increased.  
He bit his lower lip and finally managed to sit up.  
His swollen abdomen was the most bulged and disgusting thing he'd ever seen. He concentrated hard on not just giving it a blow out of sheer amazement.

It must have been growing... it must have grown over the past hours. Or days. Or whatever time he'd been unconscious.

The Doctor supported his heavy and disgusting body on his weak palms. He spat on the floor and gritted his teeth.

The Doctor hated sleeping. He hated the sensation of time passing without him even taking any notice, he couldn't stand the feeling of his body changing and aging by hours he hadn't spent; or at least not spent awake. The time that must have passed rushed through his body, crashing against him, splitting his aching head open and ripping his mind apart, piece by piece.

The Doctor moaned quietly as he buried his face in his fingers.

He got to his feet to lean over the controls.  
They had taken his meds with them. And they had known the right dosage.

The Doctor breathed heavily and tumbled around in the hub, helplessly searching for anything that would ease the pain and turn the throbbing thing inside his skull back into a clear and composed mind.

He yelped as he palpated the walls for a handle – or anything else that would keep him from swaying.

And the pounding and grinding and aching inside of him proceeded mercilessly.  
And there was nothing that would relieve the pain.  
And knowing that he had no more pain killers, no more sedatives or even homoeopathic meds drove the Doctor mad.  
He felt the hours, the minutes, the seconds, every hundredth of a second splashing back against him at the same time, squeezing into his body and flashing past with the rest of the time he'd called his bodily existence.

Or he had simply lost his mind.  
Due to the pain in his abdomen. Or the twisted thoughts in his mind. Or the debasing feeling of being helplessly at somebody's mercy; somebody who'd grant him neither dignity nor self-value.  
Or a baneful mixture that had caused his brain to shut off minutes before he'd awoken.

The Doctor felt the touch; he felt the touch of someone else, pressing against his skin, feeling his skin... touching him as he lied on the operating table;  
Naked.  
Helpless.  
Weak.

The Doctor gasped for air as he caught a glimpse of the things that had happened... must have happened...  
He snivelled and felt his eyes burning.  
His eyes were still burning, they were red and dry. He'd cried them dry and empty.  
And yet they were still burning.  
And the caucus race in his head increased, picked up speed and smashed against each side of his skull.

And then there was the knocking.

The Doctor lifted his head a bit and stared at the door in front of him.  
The Tardis' door. He stood by the Tardis' door.  
And there was a knocking without.

And the knocking wouldn't stop.

The Doctor reached down and found the key still blocking they keyhole. After several senseless attempts to open the door the Doctor managed to remove the key.  
He stared at the door as it swung open.

Jack stood in front of him, his face falling apart into an expression of pure shock.  
He stared at the red-eyed Doctor who leaned against the door frame and folded his arms.

"Jack?" asked the Doctor hoarsely as he met his gaze motionless.

Jack was too surprised to take a look further down. He could see nothing but the Doctor's eyes, the Doctor's terrified and hopeless eyes.  
He'd always thought he'd never be able to watch the Doctor cry.  
But seeing him with red-rubbed eyes was far worse.

The Doctor caught a glimpse of the black jewellery box Jack was currently clutching at.  
His hollow stare met Jack's again.

"Yes, Jack?" repeated the Doctor nearly voiceless and shifted a bit at the door.

Jack stood there with his mouth open; as some sort of reflex he stretched his arms and presented the box to the Doctor.  
The Doctor's gaze wouldn't drift from Jack's frightened eyes.

"I wanted to give you this."  
Jacks words broke the oppressive silence. But the crushing hush that followed was far worse.

"How lovely," replied the Doctor eventually and smiled; it was the maddened smile of someone who'd lost not only his mind but his pride and self-respect as well.  
The Doctor snatched the box from Jack's hands, still smiling and sighing quietly.

He opened it in silence and stared at the ring as unimpressed as he stared back at Jack; the Doctor removed the ring from its velvet bed and put it on.  
He smiled even brighter as he found the ring to fit perfectly on his ring finger.

Jack backed away cautiously.  
The Doctor lifted his head again. Tears were running down his cheeks as he focused on Jack to meet his aghast stare with empty but moist eyes.  
The Doctor tasted the salt of his own tears as his smile became broader.

"Thanks Jack," wheezed the Doctor and stumbled two steps backwards, hurriedly slamming the door.

Jack could hear the Doctor crying from the inside after he'd turned the key in the lock again.

"Thank you so much, Jack!"

Jack wasn't offended by the Doctor's slight sarcasm that resonated in his words.

It was his pure hopelessness and blank honesty that scared him.

* * *

*The term 'Baublee papal' was generated from English 'bauble' and Gallifreyan 'papal' meaning 'small thing'. The Doctor misspelled bauble to make it sound more like 'bubbly' to underline that... well, actually it's a made-up word because the Doctor couldn't think of anything else.  
The Baublee papals came into existence as the Doctor dragged them out of the Derreality, the non-existing nothing hiding on the other side of reality itself by lining its reverse side like an unimaginable thin piece of silvery silk.  
Baublee papals are nothing but the Doctor's imagination coming to life as he brought them into reality himself, simply by pushing them over the edge of non-existence; they are small calf-like creatures with big beckoning eyes and snouts which would look more appropriate on a seahorse.  
When you come to think about it the Doctor has rather strange powers of imagination...

**The Doctor had never had the chance to find out what they were. They were as solid as hooves, as firm as a claw and as flexible and smooth as a paw. Anyway it didn't matter.


	27. Guiding Light

Jack's back was rested against the solid door of the Tardis.

It didn't seem as if time had actually passed. It didn't seem to him at all as if he was still alive.

He bumped his head on the door as he leaned back again.  
He'd done it.  
He'd finally brought up the confidence to give the ring to the Doctor.  
Jack had finally proposed to the Doctor.

Kind of. In a way. But he definitely had meant to propose to him, though he hadn't said a word.  
Well, he couldn't. He couldn't have said anything.

And the Doctor had taken the ring. He'd accepted the ring from him.  
But that was it.

No sparkling moments.  
No atmosphere that would have caused your spine to start tingling all over.  
No romance.  
Nothing.

The Doctor had put on the ring and had thanked him.  
But he hadn't meant to thank him.  
He had felt obliged to thank Jack for his effort, or he'd simply tried to make the whole scene more bearable for Jack.

And he'd smiled. He'd smiled the scared smile of those who have faced Death and know that they're bound to return to him.

Jack banged his head against the wall again.

Time had stopped for him.  
Since the Doctor had locked the door... nothing had happened.  
Nothing.

Jack's mind was a blank sheet. He wouldn't have come to notice that hours had passed because he was in a subbasement somewhere in Cardiff after he'd seen the Tardis materializing.

Jack never would have believed that there were feelings worse and far more humiliating than shy and reticent.  
But now he knew.  
He felt hollow.  
He felt forcefully opened and hollowed out.  
It wasn't as if the Doctor had trampled his feelings or stepped on his tail.  
Jack was even too hollow to make a smut remark out of the previous thought (regarding the stepping on the tail) which indicated that he was becoming depressed.

He arose quietly and sighed after catching a sad glimpse of the Tardis.  
When he closed his eyes Jack would still see the mindless Doctor thanking him senselessly.

Jack leaned against the door and let out a long drawn-out sigh which merged into a surprised shriek as the door gave way and caused Jack to land on the Tardis' floor.  
Jack was on his feet in an instant.

He looked around as he was still wondering how he'd gotten into the Tardis.  
The Tardis had been locked from the inside; he'd made sure of that by banging his head against it and trying to smash it in for good.

Jack ruffled his hair uneasily as he strode around and approached the staircase leading into the bottomless depths of the Tardis.  
No Doctor around here.

"Doctor?" he shouted uneasy.  
There was no reply.  
Jack shifted while considering his next moves before deciding to go downstairs.  
He wouldn't stop shouting on his way down, though he didn't get an answer. The only thing greeting him was a strange and acrid stench.

"Doctor, can you hear me?"  
Jack had reached the first subbasement and looked around. If only the Tardis wasn't lit everywhere, mumbled Jack quietly as he tried listening instead of shouting; then he probably would have known where to go. But there were innumerable corridors leading to innumerable rooms.

He sighed as he felt the stench intensifying.  
And yet the Doctor wouldn't reply when his name was called.

"Doctor... please, I'm sorry for... well, for disturbing you," Jack went on and sighed as he rushed down the stairs, "I didn't mean to come here in the first place. I mean... of course I _meant_ to come here, I'm so sorry Doctor! But I didn't mean to break into your Tardis."

There was a distant thudding sound. Jack stopped at the end of another staircase.

"You what?!" he heard a familiar voice yelling from underneath.

Jack ran down the stairs.

"I didn't mean to... she... well, I guess she simply gave way under my weight... But please Doctor... I just... I just wanted to be with you..."

Jack thought it to be a lot easier to talk to an absent Time Lord than talking to one in person;  
especially when it was a specimen as timid and untrusting as the Doctor.

"Really Doctor... I'm sorry... I didn't mean to invade your privacy... but the Tardis simply gave in."

Jack stood in a corridor. He could see that one of the doors was slightly ajar.  
He approached carefully.  
The stench nearly caused him to faint.

"Well, you know the old saying," the Doctor obviously couldn't bite back his cockiness, "'The wiser head gives in' and we all know who that is, don't we, Jack?"

Jack pushed the door open and sighed again after light fumes passed by his head.

"Not again, Doctor. I thought we'd already been through that."  
"What's the matter, Jack? I'm just enjoying myself, that's all. And I needed something to take my mind off things."  
"But again... I mean, why does it have to be... cooking?"  
"There's nothing wrong with broaden one's horizon from time to time. Do you want a bite?"

Strange vapours escaped small boiling kettles and Jack caught a displeased glimpse of a suspicious looking liquid as the Doctor turned to face him.  
Jack tried to overlook the ridiculous apron he was wearing.  
There were more important things to discuss now.

"I apologize for invading your privacy," explained Jack as his gaze drifted downwards. His eyes rested on the Doctor's hands, on his delicate fingers. He had to smile as soon as he'd found the small sparkling spot.

"I'll forgive you," replied the Doctor without meaning it, either because he didn't care or because he hadn't listened.  
He turned around to face the stove again.

Jack frowned.  
He hated those moments. No matter how hard he considered his next moves and no matter in what chary way he tried to talk to the Doctor about something unpleasant it would always result in the Doctor snapping at him before the Doctor would ask him to leave it be.  
And then the Doctor would look him in the eye and Jack would see the infinite ocean of sadness filling the Doctor's eyes and then he wouldn't oppose against the Doctor's suggestion and simply nod.

Coming to think about it Jack and the Doctor wouldn't need to get married.  
Apparently they were an elderly married couple; at least if you judged them by the way they'd try to sort out their repetitive quarrels.

Jack placed a hand on the Doctor's shoulder. He sighed and frowned again.

"Doctor," he mumbled quietly, "What's wrong?"  
The Doctor nodded without giving him the attention he had needed.  
Jack took a deep breath and came closer. He wrapped his arms around the Doctor's shoulders and rested his head against the Doctor's.

"Jack, I'm busy," was the only comment the Doctor would give Jack pertaining to the increased body contact.  
"Doctor, we need to talk," stated Jack firmly and stroked the Doctor's shoulders.  
"No, we don't," replied the Doctor and shifted a bit as he tried futilely to free himself from Jack's firm grip.  
"Jack, you're clinging again."  
"We need to talk," repeated Jack and increased his grip.

"And what do you _want_ to talk about?" hissed the Doctor as he pushed his temples against Jack's, secretly hoping he'd thereby give him a proper blow on the head.

Jack grabbed the Doctor's left hand and lifted it by wrapping his fingers around the Doctor's ring finger. He pulled their hands towards the Doctor's face and waved the Doctor's hand gently as he presented the ring on his ring finger to him.  
The Doctor didn't take his eyes off the filigree metal.

"It's lovely," the Doctor stated unmoved. As he realized that Jack wasn't going to say anything he added unemotionally: "Do you want it back?"

Jack bit his lower lip.  
Somehow that had hurt. And it hadn't only hurt his feelings.  
It stung. Right there, in his chest. It stung;  
As if the Doctor had thrust something solid inside of him and was now cautiously removing it with bare hands.

"Do you want it...?" the Doctor repeated, unsure if Jack hadn't heard him, but Jack cut him off.  
"No."  
The Doctor sighed and Jack released his grip on him.  
"Just keep it. I don't care for whatever reason you're going to keep it, but just keep it."  
Jack spotted a chair and sat down with sloping shoulders. He sighed and buried his head in his hands as he shook it.

The Doctor considered Jack's comment again while he stared at the small golden ring.  
The Doctor's gaze drifted towards Jack and rested on the slumped figure he'd become.

He tried to focus on a thought; probably for the first time since a long time.

"What is _it_ , Jack?"  
Jack lifted his head as he the Doctor spoke quietly.  
"A gift from a friend?" the Doctor asked and added a trifle quieter "Or the gift from a lover?"

The sudden silence startled the Doctor.  
The only thing spoiling the moment right now was probably the constant bubbling sounds as the kettles lifted their own lids.

Jack arrived at the conclusion that he'd rather bite off his own tongue and swallow it than give the Doctor the reply he would have expected.  
He was already too hurt to give the Doctor the satisfaction of knowing that he loved him and that he'd always love him no matter how many times the Doctor would humiliate him by his cold-heartedness.

The Doctor's eyes focussed on the ring again.  
He moved his hand slightly and regarded it; probably for real for the first time; probably with different eyes.  
But as he saw it his eyes began to glisten.  
The inner dark and damp madness inside of his skull vanished slowly as it was chased away by the shining small ring.  
He opened his mouth and shut it again without saying a word.  
His eyes opened wider.

Jack couldn't suppress a proud smile as the Doctor said finally those words he'd been waiting for all the time.

"It's beautiful."

And though Jack knew that he was only humiliating himself he jumped from his seat and embraced the Doctor tightly.

* * *

"No way!"  
"I don't know, Jack. Probably wouldn't have been that bad."  
"Just keep telling that yourself."  
"It wouldn't have killed you. Not for long."  
"How thoughtful."  
"Jack, I don't know why you're making a fuss about it. You would have been perfect."  
"Because I can't die but you know that I would have died if I had tasted it?"  
"No."  
"Really, Doctor?"

Jack folded his arms and leaned back in the uncomfortable chair in the Doctor's library. He cocked an eyebrow at the Doctor.  
The Doctor sighed and waved his arms.  
"Alright, alright. You probably would have experienced some side effects. But, and I'd like to make that absolutely clear, it wouldn't have killed you."  
"Yes, because I can't die!" replied Jack and shifted uneasily in the chair.

"What kind of a chair is this anyway?" he asked and pulled at the cloth covering it.  
"An uncomfortable one. And no, Jack, before you ask, it's not a typical Gallifreyan chair.  
And Time Lords don't have a different spine, or whatever it was you were going to say.  
It's just an average, normal and uncomfortable chair."

Jack arose before he removed the chair's cover.  
"Nope," Jack sighed and threw the cloth at the Doctor, "It's not a chair at all."

The Doctor stared at the piles of books and sighed. He arose from his seat.  
"I've always wondered why it slackened from time to time..." mumbled the Doctor and offered Jack his seat, "Sorry, Jack."

Jack smiled and sat down with the Time Lord placed in his lap.  
The Doctor rested his head against Jack's shoulder.  
Jack stroked the Doctor's thighs and sighed.  
"Would you mind to remove the apron?" asked Jack.  
The Doctor looked down and only now came to notice that he was still wearing it.  
Of course he didn't mind taking it off but just out of childish curiosity he countered:  
"Yes, why?"

"Because I..." began Jack but broke off.  
"Go on, Jack," the Doctor encouraged him, "What is it about my apron?"  
"It's... it looks rather... urgh... ridiculous."  
The Doctor turned his head and faced Jack with a cocked eyebrow.  
"No offence, really," added Jack quietly.  
"What's wrong with it?" asked the Doctor and ran his fingers over the thin fabric.

"Is it the colour?"  
"No," replied Jack and lied because the deep orange not only didn't suit the Doctor but was so disgusting you could literally hear it screaming all the time. "It's just... the whole thing... you know... I don't want to start with the strange stitching..."  
"It's hand embroidered and it's silk," countered the Doctor.  
"And it's Gallifreyan," added Jack, "So what does it actually say?"  
The Doctor opened his mouth and thought better of answering; he shut his mouth again and looked aside.  
"Nothing."  
Jack folded his arms around the Doctor's chest.  
"You don't want to tell me?"  
"I don't need to," replied the Doctor.  
"Of course you don't need to and I can't force you into it," stated Jack before adding, "And what does it say?"

The Doctor sighed unnerved; though he had to admit that it hadn't been such a bad idea not telling Jack how to read Gallifreyan.  
"Nothing important," replied the Doctor, "It's nothing worth mentioning. It's just a saying you'll find on a lot of aprons; just a slogan."  
"Alright, alright," Jack breathed out deeply and patted the Doctor's shoulders.  
"I'm sorry for asking. I didn't know you'd make such a fuss about it."

The Doctor shrugged. He couldn't deny that he _did_ make a fuss about it; he seemed to make a fuss about everything.  
It must be the hormones, he caught himself thinking and instantly drew in a sharp breath.  
Oh, he hated himself for those thoughts. Those constant reminders...

Jack caressed the Doctor's thighs and moved towards his uneasily arched pelvis.  
One sure advantage of wearing the apron, the Doctor realized, was that Jack wouldn't come to notice that the Doctor's abdominal girth had dramatically increased.  
Now all the Doctor needed was a good reason for not taking the apron off ever again...

He sighed quietly and caught a glimpse of the ring on his finger again.

"Do you like it?" asked Jack a bit sheepishly; but it made the Doctor smile nonetheless.  
"It's beautiful, Jack," sighed the Doctor, "and I'm sorry for spoiling your big and romantic moment."

"It was neither big nor romantic," countered Jack.  
"Yes, but you had wanted it to be," replied the Doctor.  
"No I didn't and stop contradicting me. It... it just happened this way. But it doesn't matter. It's not the moment that counts; it's the decision you made."  
Jack stroked the Doctor's cheeks tenderly.  
"How could I be mad at you for one day when I know you'll love me for the rest of my life?"  
"My life, Jack," corrected the Doctor, "I'll love you for the rest of my life."  
"Same thing isn't it?" asked Jack after giving it some thought.

The Doctor shook his head. A small glowing spark, which had brightened up his hazel eyes, dimmed slowly, forcing his eyes back into darkness.

The Doctor' eyelids shut and he took a deep breath, sucking in Jack's sweet odour.  
And then he said something he knew he'd regret.

"I love you, Jack."

And he regretted it instantly.  
He hated himself for being stupid and as hopelessly romantic as the human being he'd spent far too much time with.  
But thankfully he realized that this human being from the fifty-first century was nearly as stupid as him, mainly by feeling it caressing his cheeks with its tongue and replying softly:

"I'll always love you, Doctor; and you know it," before kissing him passionately.


	28. Take a bow

The Doctor panted heavily as Jack's impatient hands started stroking his chest.

"You bloody human beings from the fifty-first century," spat the Doctor as he slipped out of Jack's hands and tumbled down onto the floor. Jack jumped from his seat and tried to help the Doctor back onto his feet; but something made him change his mind.

It was either the sight of the Doctor an all fours right in front of him or his constant horniness.  
And Jack wouldn't bother deciding what it was; he preferred feeling his fingers inside of the Doctor.

So instead of helping the Doctor getting into an upright position he decided on pushing him back onto his hands as soon as the Doctor had lifted his head.  
He found the Doctor not offering any kind of resistance; and he had to admit that it surprised him.  
Usually he would have received a "Stop it Jack!" or a "Jack, you're an idiot!" at this point at the latest. But he didn't.

And the Doctor didn't seem to mind him reaching for his waist and burying his fingers in the fabric of the Doctor's...

Jack grabbed the Doctor by the neck, his fingers gliding through his hair until he'd maintained a firm grip on the Doctor's head. He pulled his head up by his hair and to his surprise received a lust driven snarl from the Doctor.  
Though all Jack wanted right now was to push himself ruthlessly into the Doctor he paused and gasped for air. Something had to be done first.

Jack untied the bows that kept the Doctor's apron from falling right off his body.  
The Doctor grabbed Jack's hands and pulled them away from the strings as he was still clumsily fiddling with the ribbons.

"Oh no," groaned Jack above the Doctor and wrapped both hands around the Doctor's neck as a warning gesture, signalizing that he wouldn't surcease from choking the Doctor if he needed to,  
"That damn apron has to go! I'm not gonna fuck you while you're wearing this."

"I thought a human being from the fifty-first century can't be turned off," spat the Doctor at him and elevated his hips while he moved backward, teasingly pushing his rump against Jack.  
Jack released his grip on the Doctor's neck and collapsed on top of him

Only with pain and misery succeeded the Doctor in supporting his own and Jack's back as he rested on top of him; obviously he tried to get him down on the floor.  
But the Doctor preferred remaining on all fours, so that Jack wouldn't be forced to see his bulged abdomen.  
And he'd definitely notice it; he'd only been lucky till now that Jack hadn't caught a glimpse of it. And he wouldn't put his luck to test.

"I thought you primitive beings liked challenges," hissed the Doctor as he felt Jack dry humping his back, "Don't you think you can keep your stiffy when I'm wearing the apron?"  
"You've got a point there, Doctor," panted Jack and buried his fingers again in the Doctor's hair, "I'll screw you anyway."

There was a short struggle while clothes unfolded, got stripped off bodies or were simply torn to pieces; piles of books collapsed and leaves dispersed all over the floor as the entwined bodies tossed around in the room.  
Eventually their struggle came to an end; Jack was still on top of the Doctor who was stark naked – except for the apron.  
Jack had gotten undressed as well and panted heavily as he managed to press the Doctor's chest against the floor and watch his rear end elevating nearly simultaneously.

The Doctor's hands were pressed against the cold floor as his forehead got shoved against it as well.  
Both of them gasped for air, moaning, snarling and spitting.  
Each of them was waiting and observing for who'd dare to make the first move.  
It isn't even worth mentioning that Jack made the first step and pushed himself into the Doctor, his sudden intrusion only facilitated by the pre-cum he was oozing constantly.

The Doctor snarled at Jack, helplessly trying to get him off his back as he succeeded in penetrating him fast as well as unusually deep.  
Jack's impassioned thrusts hurt, causing the Doctor to alternate between moaning in pleasure and growling furiously.

Due to the last day's events Jack was still feeling stiff and aching.  
Well, it has to be mentioned that the phrase obtained a negative connotation during the fifty-first century (and you really shouldn't wonder why...)  
And he knew that he was playing rough with the Doctor.  
And somehow he had to admit that he liked hearing him whimpering and snarling underneath him.  
But after all he had to admit that he did this _for_ the Doctor.

He wasn't just using his opportunity and taking advantage of him – the Doctor would have told him if he didn't like what he was currently doing and how unbridled and feral he was doing it.  
The Doctor had never withheld his thoughts so far.  
And Jack had the feeling that the Doctor liked being roughly poked.

Jack elicited unearthly howls and noises from the Time Lord underneath him as he picked up the pace; the Doctor's beckoning sounds became louder and louder and Jack felt the skinny body beneath him twitching and wincing as he forced his swollen limb deeper into the warming tightness.

The Doctor moaned unsatisfied and Jack felt him pushing back against him.  
He wanted him deeper. He _needed_ him deeper.  
He wanted to be forcefully used and abused by Jack.  
And if Jack wouldn't please him for good he'd claim his satisfaction elsewhere.

Jack didn't know where those thoughts had come from. He couldn't recall how he'd been able to hear the Doctor's words or know what he was thinking right now.  
As if some sort of unseen bond had emerged... as if something was connecting their thoughts... pulling them closer... gluing them together...

Jack knew that the Doctor was smiling.  
He felt him smiling viciously underneath him as his thrusts became more and more expectant.  
Jack heard the Doctor's voice pleading and whining inside of his head; he heard him demanding his climax from him.  
He was mocking him. He was teasing him.  
He demonstrated that he possessed the playfulness of an uncontent child.  
A child that knew what it wanted... as well as how it would obtain it.

"You're always doing this, Jack."  
Jack heard the Doctor's voice inside of his head.  
"Always so selfish. Only thinking about yourself.  
Never caring about my sex drives. Never pleasing me. Never satisfying my bodily needs.  
Oh, I could squirt, Jack. You really could make me come.  
Oh, don't you want to see me cumming? I so would like to ejaculate all over you..."

Otherwise the Doctor's voice inside of Jack's skull would have freaked him out; but now it was only spurring him on.

Jack couldn't restrain his overwhelming urges any longer and pulled out of the Doctor before spilling himself across the Doctor's tempting derriere.  
The Doctor was still panting heavily as Jack took a deep breath and grabbed the Doctor by his shoulders, pulling him around and forcing him on top of him.  
Jack was leaning back as he reached for the Doctor's todger while the Doctor stared at him irritated.

"You want to do it, then do it," commanded Jack and pleased the Doctor's limb in his hands.

The Doctor snarled and moaned hotly before he pressed his palms against Jack's collarbones and forced him onto the ground.  
The Doctor was on top of Jack, yelping, panting and groaning while flared up skin moved against burnt out meat.  
He bit down on Jack's neck, burying his teeth in the glowing and beloved flesh, gasping for air between every bite, marking his way on Jack's shoulders and neck as his thrusts became more impatient.

Jack felt the Doctor's todger pushing against his stomach and thighs before the Doctor held his breath and came; spraying the hot drops that leaked from his todger all over Jack's sweat-covered body; whispering sweet and pleasure driven words; losing his grip on both reality and Jack and tumbling onto his dear friend's chest.

Both figures struggled for air and wheezed continuously as the ardour escaped their bodies and eventually they found themselves staring into a beloved pair of eyes.  
One of them a piercing sky-blue.  
The other one a warming hazel.  
Any yet both of them seemed to meld.

The Doctor was beginning to feel chilly but instead of letting him grab his clothes Jack wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer, chest against chest.  
The Doctor breathed uneasily as he noticed that Jack's facial expression had changed there for a moment.  
Still, Jack was smiling.

"Gained weight?" asked Jack and smirked.  
The Doctor saw small glistening flashes disturbing Jack's peaceful eyes.  
"I guess so," replied the Doctor and shifted uneasily on top of him.  
"I don't mind," reassured Jack the Doctor, "I really don't. You've always been a bit on the skinny side. I always wondered when you were going to change that."

The Doctor shivered.  
He pushed Jack's hands aside firmly before he rolled onto his stomach on the floor and got to his feet.

"Jack, I'm really cold."  
The Doctor had to justify his actions as Jack gave him a disbelieving glare.  
The Doctor grabbed his clothes wordlessly and disappeared behind a couple of giant piles of books.

"Well, I shouldn't wonder that you're so skinny," teased Jack and stretched before searching for his clothes.  
"With having nothing to eat but the food you've cooked I'd be as skinny as you are in no time."  
Jack chuckled quietly as he pulled his shirt over head.

The first thing that came into view was a Doctor with his arms folded in front of his chest.  
But that wouldn't stop Jack from smirking.

"Anyway, what does the stitching on your apron actually mean?"

The Doctor waved his arms and shook his head.  
"Alright, alright, if you want to know I'll let you decipher it," mumbled the Doctor and skimmed through the books piles before snatching a manuscript and a ponderous tome from the centre of a pile, causing it to collapse in an instant.  
The Doctor threw the book at Jack's feet.  
Jack knelt down and thumbed through the book; the Doctor knelt down and sighed again.

"The apron's really driving you mad, isn't it?" wheezed the Doctor.  
"It's like this, Jack: You start with that circle, then you move over there, then that ones, yes that one with the dot is the next..."  
The Doctor pointed at the complex stitching while Jack tried to follow him.  
"Wait, is that another syllable?"  
"No, Jack, that's just an ending. Now, if you skip through the book onto page 327... that's the chapter with the two circles that look like both of them have been very sick for too long... yes, and down there, and on the next page you'll find the infinite verb forms... and if you... yes, that's that..."

Jack stared at the Doctor after trying to put the word's he'd just read together in his mind.  
Even a Gallifreyan dictionary with English explanations seems to be too much for the human brain, thought the Doctor as Jack's mind grinded out the meaning.

Jack gave the Doctor a disbelieving glare.  
"Really?"  
The Doctor nodded.  
"No that's...but Doctor... 'Kiss the cook'?"  
The Doctor sighed and snatched the book from Jack's hands.  
"Your folks got that saying too?" wondered Jack.  
"We invented it," corrected the Doctor.  
Jack nodded and added sarcastically:  
"A clear and definite sign for a superior life form."

The Doctor watched Jack as he disappeared into the depths of Torchwood's subbasement.  
He was a bit embarrassed that Jack wouldn't stop waving at him; and he sure hoped that none of the other morons of Torchwood would record this.

He closed the door and sighed quietly as he approached the settee in the centre of the Tardis.  
Absent minded he stared at the ring.  
That was life.  
Up and down. Dark and light. Not yours to chose, not your decision on what side to join.  
Just alternating between two extremes.  
That was life like it was supposed to be.  
Darkest hours following the brighter ones...

He closed his eyes and touched the ring. The sleek metal made him feel incredible.

"Am I allowed to keep it?" he asked into the darkening space behind him.  
He'd felt _them_ approaching.  
He'd never been alone.  
He'd never been alone again.  
He knew that they were always by his side.

An indefinite nod from a dark figure he could make out from the corner of his eyes was all he'd receive.

"It won't be long."

The dark and depressing voice echoed in the Doctor's skull.  
"Not long before what?" he asked uncertainly and felt his fingers closing around the ring.

"Not long before it's time."

"Time," repeated the Doctor and spat as he opened his eyes to narrow them at the shadow in the room. He'd turned around in an instant.  
"You mean time for you to cut the unborn bastard out."

"Time for you to give birth to it."

The cold words hurt. And the Doctor frowned as he repeated bitterly:

"Birth?"

"Who are we to interfere with The Unwritten Laws of Gallifrey?"

The Doctor's eyes snapped open.  
"Don't you dare talk to me about _that_! Don't you dare defile my ancestor's rites and traditions!"

"And who are you to interfere with The Unwritten Laws of Gallifrey?" snapped the voice with unlimited depths in it.

"That's not a child of Gallifrey," replied the Doctor and clenched his fists, "And don't you dare to talk to me like that ever again! I may be your little toy, your laboratory animal or whatever you see in me but I am the last of Gallifrey's children! And if you want the damn brat then cut it out yourself!"

The Doctor panted heavily as he felt another kick from within.  
He better not be forced to induce the brat's start of life, he thought, otherwise the thing wouldn't find time to enjoy its short life and painful death.

"The time will come," stated the dark figure firmly, "Needs must."

"Why don't you drive me into the arms of Morpheus already?" asked the Doctor wearily and stared at the shadow with tired eyes, "Why don't you stop talking and push me into the never ending darkness of pain and destruction?"

The light was fading slowly and the shadows seemed to embrace the Doctor.  
"I'm the last child of Gallifrey," whispered the Doctor tiredly "I'm the last."  
"A child of Gallifrey must be born properly," echoed the reply in the Doctor's hurting skull.

"When the time has come."


	29. Dead Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possibly one of the most emotional chapters.  
> This 'memory' was the very first building block for this story...

Darkness and black despair.  
Nothing but hissing and mumbling and deafening noises.  
The Doctor wasn't be able to open his eyes, though he wouldn't know whether they were shut.  
He just thought them to be closed due to the darkness.

But he knew that he wasn't asleep as he felt the pain searing through his body, parting his limps and splitting his spine.  
If he would have been able to open his mouth he would have screamed.  
But he assumed that he had been silenced by a plastic tube sticking in his throat.

And even when the Doctor managed to open his eyes;  
There was nothing.  
Nothing but darkness surrounding him, nothing but the constant and disturbing noises, the unpleasant screams and shrieks.  
One of the Doctor's hands reached for his mouth and he found it uncovered.  
He wasn't silenced; he just didn't seem to have any voice.  
He wasn't strapped down.  
He wasn't asleep.  
He was...

* * *

The Doctor opened his eyes again. The white noise was gone.

He looked up into the golden sky; the air was filled with aromatic smells of the trees and the red grass.  
In the distance there was music, the mellowed sounds of strange instruments whose tones he had forgotten long ago.  
The music was alluring; it was tempting and overwhelming at the same time; it was not only the sound of the wind spreading notes and harmonies, no. It was more than that.  
It was above all, it was complete. The music was life itself, a life he could hardly remember anymore and the Doctor found himself indulging in reminiscences soon.  
Every light breeze carried the warmth of the gleaming sun, the songs of the past and the future, the laughter of the children.

The Doctor was back on Gallifrey.

He breathed in deeply. How could he forget how the air smelled, how the grass felt under his feet? How could he ever forget his home?  
The Doctor had often wondered if he would recognize Gallifreyan if someone spoke it after such a long time. Of course, he still used to take notes in Gallifreyan, but that was just a habit.

The Doctor saw figures approaching. No, that wasn't quite right. Though there were several coming closer, a mother and her child were keeping aloof from him.  
And after all those years without a single Gallifreyan word he still understood everything.

 _Who is this?_  
I told you: stop looking!  
But...  
Come on, now!  
And what is he doing?  
Will you please stop looking at him? Just go!

The Doctor looked uncertainly at the mother who tried to pull her child away from him; she retorted a death glare. Other voices grew closer and louder while there were still Gallifreyans drawing nearer. And yet there seemed to be an invisible line which no one dared to cross. No one dared to be within his reach. And they did nothing more than staring at his bulge, his swollen abdomen.

He closed his eyes to evade their eager glances.

_Have you seen him before?_

_It's a HE?_

_Haven't you heard?  
Stop looking, we're going! I don't want you to see this._

_He's a disgrace!_

_That's disgusting!_

_But that's not...?_

_How did that even happen?_

_You should be ashamed of yourself!_

_Who knows?_

_Shameful... just shameful!_

_It's a shame!_

_Don't go near it!_

_What do you think it is?_

_It's disgusting, that's all!_

_Don't let him touch you!_

_He's copulated with so many species... haven't you heard? He's had a lot of mates! Haha!_

_He's a disgrace!_

_Don't look at him._

_It's a shame._

_SHAME ON YOU!_

_But what are we supposed to do?_

_Just keep walking._

_Ignore it._

_Just look at him. He's disgusting. And that belly... as if he's about to pop._

_We'll I hope he's not!_

_Leave him be._

_And he dares to let others see him?_

_Let's just go._

_We can't have him around here._

_We won't have him around here.  
What do you think? Cut his throat or cut him open?_

_No one should see him in his condition._

The Doctor felt his hearts racing as he stepped slowly backwards. He didn't want to lose eye contact nor look them into the disturbed faces. He couldn't turn.  
For the first time in his life he couldn't RUN.

The Doctor tumbled down, giving the rout a chance to move closer.

_Just cut his throat and make it quick!_

_He's brought shame upon us all!_

_Cut the child out as well – that's no life worth living!_

_The child's been begotten in shame._

_He deserves to die!_

_Leave it alone!_

_Why don't you start running?_

_Get out of here!_

_He's disgusting._

_Rip the child out as well. Who knows what deformed creature it is anyway?  
Just stop looking!_

_His sheer existence is defilement to our race!_

_Why didn't you sleep with someone who'd protect you now?  
Get it out of here!_

The Doctor gasped, crossing his arms in front of his chest and shuddered in fear.

He felt the cold floor of the Tardis underneath.

It was a dream. It had all been a dream.  
The Doctor sat up, his hands still clutching his elbows. His knuckles turned white.  
His eyes were burning with tears, he must have cried for hours. He had been asleep again.  
 _They_ must have been here.  
And the tears wouldn't stop running down his cheeks; he snivelled.  
The voices echoed in his head.  
 _Shame on you._  
 _Shame on you._  
He gasped for air between his muffled cries of desperation.  
Shame on you.  
The Doctor closed his eyes again.

After all those years...  
All those...  
The words were coming to his mind again.  
Shame – shame on him.  
Disgrace – he had deceived everyone.  
Infamy – he had dishonoured his family.  
Blemish – he should've never been born.

And there were so many words in Gallifreyan stating the same thing: His mere existence was nothing more than an indignity for all Time Lords.

Now he remembered the word that had haunted him so many years, the name that had testified the disrepute; the name he had earned for his bad reputation.  
Two big circles, three semicircles, one small circle and three dots connected with lines:

Attaint.

The Doctor shivered.  
Blot, stain, eyesore, shame... he was nothing but a disgrace to everyone who had known him.

He covered his face in his hands; his shoulders twitched uncontrollably while he cried shamelessly, still crouching on the floor.  
"No more..."mumbled the Doctor and sobbed.  
"No more!" he howled over and over again.  
He felt disgusting. He WAS disgusting. He had wanted to throw up, but he knew it was hopeless; He hadn't managed to touch food in days. And either way: soon _they_ would be back, forcing the gastric contents back into his body.

The Doctor rocked back and forth. He couldn't take it anymore.  
No more.

"Where are you?!" cried the Doctor in despair, "I know that you can hear me! I want to see you! I want you to stand in front of me and tell my why you're doing this to me! Show yourself, for any God's sake!"  
His voice was cracking. He sobbed and crawled on the floor towards the door of the Tardis.  
His back hurt. His knees hurt. His...  
He clenched a fist and struck at his abdomen only to press his hands against it shortly afterwards.  
"I can't take it anymore, do you hear me?! I can't! I'm tired of fighting myself! I'm..." He sobbed and spat on the floor, before wiping the blood off his sore lips.

"How could you do this to me?!" he screamed several times into the silent Tardis "How could you?!"  
The Doctor banged his fists against his body, his hated, disgusting, revolting and wrong body.  
He doubled over in pain.  
It had to stop. He had to put an end to it! Now!

Whipping away the tears and breathing in deeply he sat up straight again.  
"I've got to stop it," he mumbled "before it's too late. I can't show myself to Jack. I can't let him see me like this. That's not how he should keep me in mind." He tried to keep a cool head but couldn't think straight.  
He didn't even know where he could find...  
The Doctor crawled over to the controls and helped himself to get to his feet again. It had to be somewhere around here...something useful...something he needed right now...

The Tardis had helped him. She'd always been there to support him and help him. But now...  
The Doctor touched the levers with care and stroked the controls softly.  
"Even you've abandoned me, didn't you? My old Lady..."  
The humming of the Tardis was deafening.  
The Doctor pulled his hands back again and dragged himself over to a small cabinet. He smashed his hands against it until the glass would break and splinters covered the floor.

"No more," he mumbled quietly as he knelt down and skimmed his hands over the shards studded floor and sighed aloud, biting back the tears, whenever he felt one of the little smithereens boring into his skin.  
He fumbled around the broken pieces to find one of a nearly convenient seize. After several unpromising attempts to pick up the razor-sharp glass-splinter the Doctor removed his shirt wile closing his eyes.  
Don't look at it, he persuaded himself quietly mumbling, Don't look down.

He moved his hands across his stretch marks covered skin and grabbed the splinter after wrapping his shirt around one of his wrists.

The Doctor couldn't resist and blinked, catching a small glimpse of his hated and deformed body before forcing the self-made blade against his upper abdomen.

There was a strange sound from above as the Doctor whined and yelped in pain, though he wouldn't lose his grip on the splinter; he kept pushing it deeper and deeper into his abdomen, secretly wishing to reach the unborn inside of his body as soon as possible. He couldn't take his life without liquidating the foetus as well. And in his current state of mind he considered it to be rather cruel to simply slit his wrists (despite the fact that he could never remember if you were supposed to cut vertically or horizontally because they always got that wrong in the movies) and wait for the foetus to starve to death.

No, that was too cruel, he wouldn't want the thing to die miserably. All it had to do was dying, with at least a bit of dignity.

Warm blood trailed down the Doctor's lower abdomen as he forced the blade in once more; he fought helplessly against his own body which tried closing every inflicted wound only seconds after it had emerged.

The Doctor clutched at the blade and pushed it in, deeper and deeper, dragging it aside, around, just shoving it in without caring... not caring for the _thing_ he carried within.  
Not caring if he would cut it in half or just slice it open.  
It had to stop. He had to stop this from happening.  
"No...more..." the Doctor snarled weakly and bit back a sob as the tingling twinge spread throughout his body.

His mouth opened and shut soundless as his stare became blank; he whimpered hopelessly when immediate coldness crept over him.

He held on to the blade as he sank onto the floor, it was a relieve as his burning forehead made contact with the cold floor underneath him.  
He'd put a stop to it.

The Doctor was in pain.  
He was either regenerating or dying; either way he didn't care.  
All he felt was the warm stream gently flowing down his injured chest as he lay in a puddle of his own blood on the Tardis' floor.

And the gurgling noises of the blood cascade drowned out the creaking of the door behind him.


	30. Hoodoo

There was a crackling noise above the Doctor; or it had been a sizzling whirr, coming from the hub of the Tardis, because his beloved ship must have realized by now that her pilot had tried to cut himself free from the invisible bond they had shared for so long.  
'Probably too long'... the Doctor added to himself and gritted his teeth.

That snappy remark had proven only one thing and that 'thing' made him furious:  
He was still alive.  
Somehow he must have survived. Or a Time Lord wasn't simply born to commit suicide... or at least, not as easily as bay slitting his own wrist or cutting of his head.  
Though he might give the second one a try...

The Doctor's eyes snapped open as his numb fingers reached for his blood stained stomach; he tried to touch the scar, he tried to feel the, until now, open wound; but there was nothing.  
Nothing he could feel.  
Nothing to touch.  
Nothing that would have proven that the last moments, the moments before he'd passed out, had even happened.

No sign.  
No...

The Doctor clenched his fists and bit his lower lip to keep his anger locked in; he wanted to scream; he knew that he should have screamed but there was a faint possibility that a vein in his head might rupture and the Doctor wouldn't bother if he wasn't dead right now but in, say, two or three hours; that would be quite fine.

Either way, that damn _thing_ inside of his stomach...  
The Doctor flinched as he received a displeased kick.  
Alright...either way, that bloody brat could see where this left it; the gloves were off and long lost as well as the Doctor's empathy.

The brat had survived. The bloody brat had survived!  
The Doctor couldn't bite back a furious snarl that faded into an unsatisfied growl.

But what did he think?  
That they just wait and watch as he ends his life as well as the life of an unborn child?  
They controlled his Tardis; they had control over him as well.  
And he hadn't even succeeded in killing himself...

The Doctor's eyes snapped open; not that they opened a second time; this time he really pushed back his lids and looked around on the sticky floor.  
What really puzzled him were the snivelling sounds.  
Someone was crying.

The Doctor crawled around, moving through the half dried blood on the floor and finally discovered a hunched figure, leaning against the console.  
He managed to get into a kneeling position and placed a cold hand on the figure's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Doctor..." was Jack's voiceless reply. The Doctor stared him in the eye, cold hearted and empty minded.  
He had nothing to reply; he was probably too shocked anyway.  
And what could have said after all?

"I... I should have know... known," Jack gulped and wiped the tears away senselessly; he couldn't even stop himself from crying.  
The Doctor pressed his cold fingers against Jack's cheeks. He eyed him up closely.  
And Jack saw two huge black pools of darkness staring back at him.  
The Doctor's eyes were as hollow as his heart; as blank as his mind; and as dark as his soul.

"I'm so sorry... so sorry... Doctor," whispered Jack and snivelled.  
The Doctor stared at him, unmoved and empty.  
And yet, Jack wouldn't stop apologizing.

"I'm so sorry... I should have known... I should have protected you... you... Doctor..."

The Doctor closed his eyes as he felt Jack's stare sagging; he pulled his fingers aside.  
"I'm fine, Jack," he kept on lying and wouldn't dare to open his eyes again.  
"Really. I'm fine."

"No..." Jack's pleading voice was nothing more but a pitiful screech in the Doctor's ear.  
But the Doctor shook his head firmly and wouldn't look at him again; he wouldn't open his eyes, he didn't care about Jack's following apologies, he didn't mind him blaming himself over and over again and he remained unmoved as Jack's voice had trailed off and he could hear him fumbling around in his pockets.

Then there was the shot that caused his eyes to snap open even against his will.

The Doctor grabbed Jack's neck as he was collapsing into his arms, blood covering his face and spreading over the floor as well.  
The Doctor embraced his dead friend tightly and stroked his back, knowing that he'd come again to life any minute.

Jack's self inflicted head wound looked disgusting, the Doctor thought; not especially gruesome but as repulsive as every common wound.  
But the pool of blood running over the floor was something more... something darker. Something far more beautiful.  
It was a symbol for calmness, for eternal piece and silence.  
And the Doctor assumed that Jack would have liked the look of it too, when he would have seen that both Jack's and his pool of blood met on the floor, quiet and tranquil, embracing each other in the dignified and just rest.

The Doctor kissed Jack's neck as he stroked his shoulders.  
"Oh Jack," he mumbled quietly; he'd finally found his voice again.  
"I should have told you, Jack... I really should have... you would have wanted to know it... right Jack?... you probably would have said that it was your right to know about it... But what for? What for Jack?"

The Doctor buried his face in Jack's hair and closed his eyes weakly.

"It would have been torture, Jack. I would have tantalized you by letting you know. Well... because you can't protect me. You can't evade the inevitable, Jack. Death and taxes, Jack... death and taxes, and people who know how to control a Tardis.  
That's just it.  
You can't help me, Jack. You just can't. You're as powerless as I am.  
What has to be will be... And you're supposed to wake up any moment..."

The Doctor had just enough time to finish muttering to himself before Jack drew his first breath again.  
The Doctor had placed Jack's head on his knees, the constantly flowing blood staining his clothes.

Jack looked at the Doctor with tired eyes.  
"I'm sorry..." he snivelled as tears streamed down his cheeks again.  
The Doctor tried to push himself to something resembling a smile.  
It was not really convincing; and definitely a lot scarier.

Nevertheless, Jack retorted the smile quietly and reached for the Doctor's icy hands.  
The Doctor grasped Jack's fingers.

"You're an idiot..." the Doctor mumbled in a nearly familiar voice.

And it made an impact on Jack as he was now crying out loud.


	31. Escape

Martha had been pleased to discover certain details about a Time Lord's birth.

Alright: She would have been pleased if it wasn't particular _her_ Time Lord who was going to give birth soon.  
Though, she had to admit, it was quite fascinating.

The Doctor had never left out an opportunity to rub in that he was a superior life form; and Martha never would have dared to doubt the word of someone who was the last of their kind.

But as she watched the restless Doctor trotting through Torchwood, searching, hiding, never sitting still, always going and going, running and running around...  
Time Lords weren't like humans.  
And they weren't like animals, either.

They _were_ animals.

But maybe, and that was what Martha concluded, maybe that was what made Time Lords superior life forms.

Animals were neither just nor cruel; they were solely animals. They wouldn't do things because of reasons but of their own accord due to their instincts.

The Doctor was neither just nor cruel.

He was only the Doctor.

"Doctor?" asked Martha uneasy after she could have sworn that a skinny shadow had appeared and disappeared behind her in the blink of an eye.  
She turned around to find no one behind her.

Martha sighed and arose from her seat, putting aside the warm cup of tea she had tried to enjoy.

"Can I help you?"

Martha wasn't actually sure if it had been the Doctor who was rummaging through the rooms. It had only been a wild guess, due to the fact that most of Torchwood's member had tried to keep out of his way or ignore him.  
And Martha herself knew that it wasn't easy dealing with the Doctor when something highly valued and precious had been taken from him...

"Doctor?"  
Out of sheer foolishness Martha found herself looking behind a stack of boxes.  
No one insight; well, she could have guessed. Or to be more precisely; she _should_ have guessed.

Due to the strange sounds swirling irregularly through the air Martha found herself hoping that there wasn't another alien on the run that had managed escaping the basement and Jack hadn't found the courage to tell her about it.  
She shifted nervously as she peered through an open door.

"Doctor?"

There was a cracking noise behind her, which probably indicated that something was trying to screw off her head, or something similar Martha would have expected.  
She turned around with both her hands in the air and her eyes closed.  
"Please don't...!" she whispered in a frightened tone.

"You know that I'm against guns. Guns kill."  
Martha opened her eyes and found a calm Doctor sitting on the same spot where she had been resting till now.  
"Alright; Guns kill everyone except for Jack."  
He brought a cup to his lips slurped noisily.

Martha frowned.  
"That's my tea you're drinking, isn't it?"

" _Was,_ " the Doctor corrected and showed her the empty cup, "Do you have some more?"

"Doctor you had me really worried," stated Martha as unmoved as she could; which was in fact rather emotional.

The Doctor sighed. He stared at the empty cup and held it against the light.  
Martha risked a quick glance at the Doctor's bulged abdomen.  
Alright; his extremely bulged abdomen.

"As if I'm about to pop," mumbled the Doctor unmoved and added a plopping sound to reinforce his statement.  
Martha stared at the Doctor abashed. The Doctor gave her a broad smile.  
"Oh, come on, you know that I can sense what you're thinking."  
"Yes, but there's a reason why I'm not saying it," explained Martha.  
"Because you don't want to hurt me," replied the Doctor and gave her an innocent look.  
"Because I don't want _anyone_ to hurt you, including you!" snapped Martha.

The Doctor sighed.  
"I just thought I'd pop by and take the opportunity to drink your tea..." Martha rolled her eyes at the plopping sound again; the Doctor chuckled quietly, "...and I'll be off again. I won't be bothering you any longer..."

As the Doctor arose he felt a concerned hand pushing him back into place.

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere Doctor. You're staying!" bellowed Martha and folded her arms as an unbelieving Doctor stared her in the eye. "And don't give me that look. You can't just walk into my office, drink my tea and then disappear without answering my questions."

The Doctor stared at her meekly.

"And that won't work, either. So sit back, or up, or do whatever you need to get comfortable," Martha shut the door and leaned her back against it.  
"You're staying."

The Doctor sighed again.  
"Fine," he mumbled, only to be nearly interrupted by a huffish "Fine!" from Martha.

The Doctor eyed her up cautiously.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" he asked angrily.  
Martha owed him an explanation.

The Doctor followed Martha's example and folded his arms likewise.  
"I should have known. I really should have seen that coming," he mumbled half to himsel,f "A Time Lord-tea-trap. I really should watch out for those."

"Shut up," grumbled Martha.  
The Doctor searched her gaze.

He wouldn't want to know what she was going t question him about; he didn't even dare thinking about it.  
Therefore he was rather surprised when Martha asked:  
"What is it with you lately? Running around, hiding from everybody's sight, disappearing and reappearing unsuspected, not wanting to answer any questions..."  
"No one's asked me questions," explained the Doctor.  
"Not even Jack?" asked Martha and gave him a disbelieving glare.

"I must admit that you look rather cute when you do that," replied the Doctor.  
"Sarcasm does not become you," answered Martha and opened her almond shaped ebony eyes a bit more.  
"I mean it!" insisted the Doctor.  
"And cuteness does not become you, either," explained Martha.  
She pulled a chair beside the Doctor.

"Jack didn't say a word," stated the Doctor coldly.  
"Not to you, no, I can imagine," added Martha.

Oppressive silence spread through the room as Martha and the Doctor were both lost in thoughts; each of them more terrifying and depressing.

"This is all wrong," mumbled Martha.  
"He never should have seen me like this," added the Doctor in a low voice.  
"Jack never should have locked up the Tardis and hid it in subbasement two," Martha went on.  
"And you never should have told me that," replied the Doctor whilst still staring into space.  
"There's nothing wrong with telling you, anyway," mumbled Martha, "I know that you won't be going. You won't leave."  
"And what makes you think so?" asked the Doctor and looked at the door.

"Because you would have left as soon as possible; I know that you've already discovered the Tardis in the subbasement; you've already given her those strange and somewhat warm hearted-strokes..."  
"Stop it," snapped the Doctor, "What did you say that for?"  
"What?" replied Martha accusatorily, "As if it was a secret! You, your Tardis and your strange relationship."

The Doctor sighed.

Martha was close to laying an arm around his shoulders. But she stuffed her over-protective-domestic-approach-gut reactions back into the deepest corners of her mind.  
She tried to convince herself that the Doctor wasn't a very cuddly person. At least not when she was around...

"It's not like that, Martha, and you know it," the Doctor sighed beside her and grasped her hands; his cold fingers made Martha flinch.  
"It's just... I want to spare you the disgust of feeling me... my bulged body..." The Doctor obviously bit back some vicious remarks Martha probably wouldn't have gotten anyway because they were Gallifreyan.

"Doctor, you need help," stated Martha firmly and searched his gaze; the Doctor's eyes showed unlimited deepness as they mirrored the coldness of his heart.

"All I need is a place to hide. To hide myself from any form of invasion, observation or surveillance. I don't need help, Martha," the Doctor turned towards her and stared her in the eye, the warmth of his hazel eyes disappearing into the endless depths of an ocean of despair:  
"I need to be a alone. That's all I want."

Martha nodded her assent involuntarily. The Doctor had something about him that made it hard to disagree with him; maybe it was the knowledge he radiated; or his convictions which he said quite openly; or it was simply his ability to screw with other people's minds.  
Martha didn't care what it was.  
But she didn't like nodding like a puppet.

"I still think you need help," explained Martha.  
"Your help," corrected the Doctor.  
Martha nodded again, but this time of her own free will.

"What do you want from me?" asked Martha staidly, "Do you want me to check..."  
"I need your help with finding a place where I can be alone," interrupted the Doctor, "that's all."  
Martha eyed him up suspiciously.  
"You think I might now a hiding place somewhere around here because I've spent too much time in Torchwood lately," concluded Martha, "Though you're missing the opportunity to ask a physician for help or assistance..."

"I don't need your assistance," snapped the Doctor and silence Martha in an instant, "You don't even know what you're talking about! You can't do _a thing_. You don't understand _a thing_. You think just because you know what to give a primitive human being to make it shut up for quite a while or which side is the sticky one of a plaster you can deal with superior life forms whose digestive system is more complex than an average human's brain! You don't know _a thing_ , Martha Jones! And if you want to be of any use you keep your mouth shut!"

Martha arose beside the Doctor. Her facial expression hadn't changed; she didn't even want the Doctor to notice her consternation.  
"Fine," hissed Martha and made a run for the door as she felt that she was no longer able to keep the tears from welling up in her eyes.  
"That's right: Run and be as useless as always!" added the Doctor after Martha had slammed the door behind her.

"Alright!" was her hurt reply that faded into nowhere.

The Doctor slumped in his chair and sighed. He gave the teacup he'd placed on the floor before him a kick and listened to the tinkling sounds as the cup shifted strangely, moving as if it would bounce and roll at the same time.

The Doctor tried to convince himself that he hadn't been too harsh on Martha. He tried to believe in his own lies.  
He tried not to hear Martha's distant cries or the hurtful names and designations she had in store for him.  
He just gritted his teeth; metaphorically as well as literally; telling himself the same thing over and over again.

One more day. Just one more day... And then he'd put an end to it all.


	32. Interlude

A box.  
After all these years...  
After decades of travelling in a police box...  
And now a simply box had to do.  
But the Doctor wasn't picky. A plain wooden box would be more than sufficient.  
He'd finally discovered what he'd been searching for restlessly for days.

A box.  
Well, the Doctor didn't care what the others would call it. As long as it had six walls and wasn't see-through it was more than satisfactory.  
And he actually fitted in quite well.

Time Lords aren't like humans.  
They lack a certain something concerning their interpersonal behaviour and their ability to communicate with no need for language.  
They feel each other's thoughts; they can sense them.

Beside the fact that they are, without a question, a superior race in all areas possible.

Time Lord's aren't like animals.  
They _are_ animals.  
That's what makes them superior to humans.  
Screw rationality and reason; real survivors have instincts.  
That's what keeps them going.

And the Doctor would no longer fight against it.  
He felt it. He knew it.  
He was an animal.

And he had just found the right object that would at least resemble a whelping box.


	33. Host

There was only little spare room left. Just enough room to spread his arms.  
But the box should be fine. It should be as good as expected.  
On the other hand he didn't expect much.

It was dark. And maybe that was the best part.  
The Doctor wouldn't be forced into looking at it.  
He wouldn't be forced to see it at all.  
He stroked his bulge carefully but unloving.  
He concentrated on imagining what it would feel like to give birth. He tried to convince himself that it wasn't happening to him. He tried to escape once more, tried to invent someone like John Smith who would know what had to be done.  
Because it was normal for him.  
Or her.

The Doctor dug his nails into his thighs.  
He was right about it. He was a girl. Nothing more than a scared little girl, who had been punished by nature for her lascivious way of living with the worst punishment.

"Doctor you can't lock yourself up in there! This is madness!"  
Martha banged her foot against the box once more.  
"Would you be so kind as to shut up?" yelled the Doctor, "Bloody hell! Don't you know you shouldn't knock on aquariums because it's louder on the inside?"  
"Haven't heard anything about an alien in a box!" shouted Martha, "You can't stay in there!"  
"Leave me alone," muttered the Doctor and clenched his fists, which had till now been resting on his thighs.  
For all he could tell it'd started.  
And he sure hoped Martha hadn't planned on staying.  
He wouldn't let anyone come near him.  
He knew what he was supposed to do. He was forced to wait, just to wait and scream and deal with unbearable pain until someone came to take...

Would it be a boy or a girl?

The Doctor gritted his teeth and dug his nails into the rough surface of the box, scratching along the sides until every nail was broken and his fingertips were rubbed sore.  
"Doctor," the Doctor came to notice that Martha was still on the other side of the box, "please keep calm... breathe in deeply and..."  
"Don't you dare tell me what I'm supposed to do and how am I preparing my body correctly Ms Jones," snapped the Doctor.  
"Just calm down," replied Martha uneasily. "I've already called for Jack. He should be here by now."  
It sounded as if she took a few steps towards the box.  
"Listen, I'm very sorry but I had to fetch him. I'm at my wit's end; I don't know what to do anymore. And you're not much of a help either."

"You should have let me return to my Tardis," countered the Doctor. "You people of Torchwood are all the same. If it's extraterrestrial and slightly interesting you'll keep it locked up."  
"You're not our prisoner, Doctor," explained Martha in a lower voice, "I promised you I'd let you go any time."  
"Then do it," mumbled the Doctor and crouched into a corner.  
"I'd love to, but..."

"Doctor, I can't let you go."  
Jack's honest and blank reply made him furious. He pressed his hands on his back and suppressed the tears swelling in his eyes.  
"So be it," hissed the Doctor and moaned. "But don't expect me to hold back. I advise you to leave me alone. You can't help me. And I dare each one of you to try to force this box open."  
Then he breathed in deeply and screamed.

It had definitely started.

He rolled over to one side and wrapped his arms around his knees.  
His back was killing him. His bulge must have grown bigger over the past two weeks.  
His body looked nearly as disgusting as it felt.

There was a sound of fading footsteps; Jack must have left. Why should he have stayed in the first place? He couldn't help him. Of course, Martha was of no use as well right now, but the Doctor knew that she'd stay, no matter how often he'd beg her to go.

The Doctor pressed his face against the wall and panted. His forehead was sweaty and he tried not to scream again as soon as the next contractions started.  
This is it, he assured himself. All he had to do was to survive the next... hour, possibly more. And he had good chances on surviving due to his regenerating powers.  
He held his breath, and after two painful contractions, coughed while gasping for air.  
There he was; naked and all alone. Nothing inside except for him...  
And the small blade.

The Doctor had considered the book of Neakahla, a medical book written by the probably best surgeon in the whole universe and of course, due to the fact that he was a Time Lord, the greatest surgeon of all times as well.  
He had been fortunate to borrow one of the rare scripts back then in Gallifrey.

Well no really borrowed as such, well, no one had been looking and, well... due to the Time Lock he hadn't been able to return it till now.  
But he definitely would.

The Doctor hammered against the box and howled while smashing his knuckles against the solid surface until he was sure that his hand was broken and therefore was supposed to hurt more than his pelvis.  
The Doctor was cracking up. And that was probably normal right now, too.

It was traditional craving privacy when you were giving birth. At least on Gallifrey it had always been this way. You had to go alone, to be alone and return with the newborn – or don't return at all.

As a child the Doctor had wondered why a mother-to-be wouldn't come back if she had failed to give birth to a healthy child. He had figured it had something to do with shame.  
But after studying the book of Neakahla he had learned that it was simply fate's choice.  
You gave birth or you died.  
No wonder the birth rates had decreased over the years.

Dr. Neakahla had mused that pregnancies not only affected a body physically, due to the hormonal redesign it was undergoing, as he called it, but mentally, too. The two bodies, the alpha-body of the mother and the beta-body of the unborn, existed together only. A child was born out of the mother's time line in the moment of conception but seemed to be connected to it until its day of birth. Their time lines moved and changed concurrent.  
So if the child died...

The Doctor closed his eyes and flinched. He had touched the blade absent-mindedly with his fingers but felt the bleeding cut closing itself already.  
His healing powers had increased. He sure hoped he wasn't going to regenerate after giving birth.  
Then again...  
He was sick and tired of his current self. He wouldn't mind being someone new, someone else...  
Someone who wasn't forced to carry a baby for the greater good.

He sighed in order not to start sobbing again.

It seemed that he was still stuck in depression, the phase of depression actually.  
And still he couldn't remember what it had been all about.

Dr. Neakahla's script had been quite of interest to him when he had been younger. A lot younger. He'd nearly devoured the book, deprived every single word of it to keep it in mind.  
Back then he had been fascinated; fascinated by the characterizations, by the classifications and the bluntness of Dr. Neakahla's words. Every detail was unbiased.  
Dr. Neakahla had observed the world around him and the creatures inhabiting it completely unprejudiced.

The Doctor felt stronger contractions and grunted. And his goddamn hand was back to normal again so the pain in his lumbar vertebrae worsened.  
He gasped for air and tried to distract himself by recollecting the stages of...  
His hands tried to support his back. He screamed and hit his fists on the wall repeatedly.  
He panted and closed his eyes.

There were five stages, he could remember, five stages of...  
But somehow he wasn't able to recall it; only four stages came to his mind.  
First: Denial.  
Second: Anger.  
Third: Bargaining.  
Fourth: Depression.  
And fifth...  
He sighed and poked the bulge nervously, though he'd only hurt himself. He just couldn't remember. And it was driving him insane. He wanted so badly to recall it; he wanted to concentrate on...

He screamed again but broke off surprisedly. The rhythm had changed. There was a decrease in his cardiac rhythms. His skin was cold and sweaty.  
His hearts were slowing down.  
But why? , he asked himself, Why would they change their rhythms?  
A few premature heart contractions followed that scared him to death.

Someone outside of the box had gasped in horror.  
"Leave me alone!" cried the Doctor while sobbing, "I'll do it myself; and there's nothing that you could do."

Embarrassing silence was sucked into the box from the outside.

"Just leave, Martha! I told you to stay out of my business. And it's my business, after all. It's my fault, I never should have come here in the first place; I should have left Torchwood as soon as I had regained consciousness, then you wouldn't have been forced into sharing in."  
The Doctor howled and buried his face in his hands.  
"It shouldn't have happened... I never should have let Jack see me ever again. I should have fled to my Tardis and just disappeared. I've brought shame on both of us, Jack and me."

The Doctor sobbed.  
He'd cut his fingers again on the small blade and left scratch marks on the... He looked at his hand.  
The ring.  
He was still wearing Jack's ring. Involuntarily he tried removing it. He thought it to be bad luck after all. He should be alone. He should be all alone during the process. And he definitely shouldn't spare a thought for Jack.

But it was of no use. His fingers were too swollen; no matter how hard he pulled he couldn't manage to get it off.  
He snorted angrily. It was terrible bad luck. If only this goddamn thing...

"Martha," the Doctor knocked on the wall, "Martha, you're still there, aren't you? You'd never leave, I know. There's no sense in pleading, you'll never leave me alone..."  
He heard muted sniffing on the outside.

The Doctor whipped the sweat off his forehead and touched the closing cut lost in thought. "Martha, if I don't come out of here... You've had some wires attached to the box or some other stupid gimmick, haven't you? I bet you're monitoring me and each of my movements, isn't that right?"  
A muffled sound came as a reply only; the Doctor assumed she was crying but had tried to agree.

"When I'm gone," the Doctor conceded, hissing between his teeth, "don't let Jack see me, don't let him even take a quick glance at me. He shouldn't be compelled to see my distorted body ever again. And before you're going to perform an autopsy, Martha, I want you to take the ring off my finger. And please return it to Jack. I'm so sorry, that I couldn't have been what he had wanted me to be..."  
The Doctor could hear Martha sobbing even in here.  
"Just tell them that it was my last wish that YOU'd perform the autopsy... I mean, I hope you're friends in Torchwood are respecting dying wishes from locked up aliens... Dunno... But I guess it'd be worth a try, what do you think?"  
The constant sobbing on the other side wouldn't stop.

"Oh Martha, no, please stop crying. It's not that I WANT you to perform an autopsy on me. It's just that I know that those responsible for Torchwood have been looking forward to splattering my blood all over an operating table and groping around in my still warm intestines since..."

"Stop it Doctor!"

The Doctor held his breath in speechless astonishment as soon as he'd heard Jack shouting.

"Just stop right there! I don't want to hear another word! You're not going to die, I won't let you die, I...  
YOU CAN'T DIE...!"


	34. Blackout

The Doctor's eyes widened.

"I ordered Martha to leave you alone. I didn't want you to be disturbed,"explained Jack.

"I thought you had left the room..."

"I'll never leave you," Jack cut him off, "I'll stay by your side, forever. And I won't just let you die in there. I'll..."

"It's none of your business," hissed the Doctor and clasped his fingers around the blade, "You can't play at fate. I'm sorry Jack, but this isn't your decision, neither it's mine. What has to be will be."

"I won't just abandon you to your fate," replied Jack, who seemed to have found his voice again, "I've never abandoned you before, and I won't start right now."  
"You can do nothing," hissed the Doctor, "the inevitable happens."  
Jack took a few steps towards the box. The Doctor assumed he was standing right in front of it, and by the sounds he heard, was stroking the box carefully.

"I won't let you die," Jack repeated in a concerned voice, "and I'm not afraid to choose between your life and the life of..."

"Don't you dare interfere with The Unwritten Laws of Gallifrey," snapped the Doctor, before getting cut off by a cry of pain. He panted and smashed his knuckles against the walls. "What do you know? What do you think you know, Jack?! How dare you answer me with such words? You're nothing more than a..."

The Doctor broke off in mid-sentence and screamed again. He preferred to continue in Gallifreyan, so that Jack wouldn't hear the things he accused him off, the names he called him and all those things he'd always wanted to get off his chest.  
Jack had become silent; he didn't dare to speak or to contradict.

He just wanted the Doctor to be safe.  
All he wanted to do right now was telling the Doctor that everything was going to be alright.  
And he really wanted to believe it himself.  
Jack wanted the Doctor so badly to say that everything was back to normal.  
He wanted it to be over, for both of them.

It had to come to a proper end.

And Jack tried to convince himself anxiously that the last he would see of the Doctor wasn't a lifeless body in a box that they would be forced to break open, clutching his arms around a healthy newborn while he hadn't survived.

The Doctor moaned deeply, gripping the knife with stiff fingers.  
He stared at his own trembling hands; then he held his breath  
"Grief... five stages of grief..." mumbled the Doctor all of a sudden.  
"Doctor?" asked Jack understandably uneasy.  
"It's grief, Jack... so... but I'm..."

Jack was at his wit's end as he heard the Doctor whimpering and whining; he neither knew what was going on in there nor why the Doctor had stopped screaming at him and, instead, kept mumbling about grief. Jack was sure that he was cracking up in there.  
And that he was in dire need for help.  
"You're not going to die in there, Doctor!" shouted Jack, "Doctor, I'm not gonna let you die!"

The Doctor started stammering; he held his breath, his eyes wide open.  
"I... I'm... I'm going to..."  
Then there was nothing but irritable moans.

Martha stood quietly in the doorway, biting her fingernails.

Like Jack, she was too unsettled to even hear the sound of a sonic screwdriver unlocking the sealed door behind her...


	35. New Born

Jack leaned by the box and held his breath in commotion.  
He couldn't stand it any longer.

Jack turned around, facing a horror-stricken Martha; she stared at him wide eyed.  
"We've got to open this box."

Martha's mouth opened and shut without her saying a word; then she stared at her feet.

"Martha I can't let him die in there!" Jack started shouting again, "We've got to do something!"

Martha shifted a bit uneasy.  
"The Doctor..."  
"I don't care what he said to you, I can't stand it any longer" interrupted Jack.  
"But I..."  
Jack was becoming more and more agitated.  
"For God's sake Martha, we've got to help him; we can't let him do this on his own."  
"But he said he had to do it himself" contradicted Martha.  
"I don't care what he said," yelled Jack, "And if he won't let us in we'll force it open!"

Jack lunged at the box and kicked it a few times before Martha flung herself at him.

"Step away from the box!"

Martha turned around and found a furrowed face staring at her; its skin seemed to be covered in small arranged emeralds; they glistened menacingly as the creature in front of her opened its eyes even more.  
Martha hardly even noticed the sonic screwdriver pointed in her direction.

"What are you...?!" Jack turned on his heel and stared speechless into the invader's face.

"Step away from the box," repeated the alien creature in front of them, more insisting than threateningly; it breathed out deeply and lowered his hands a bit, signalizing them to calm down.

"This is the Doctor's screwdriver," mumbled Martha.  
Jack put one and one together and leapt at the creature in front of him. Martha had trouble restraining him with the help of Ianto, who had followed the intruder.  
"You...this is your...!"

"Stop it! Please...all of you. Just stop it."

Not only Martha's jaw had dropped but Jack's seemed to have hit the floor and bounced back into its previous position.

For a moment Jack had nearly forgotten about the Doctor in the box behind him.  
And he couldn't believe that he was staring the Doctor right in the face.

But not _his_ Doctor.


	36. Spiral Static

Martha was the first to find her voice.

"Who are you?"

The man in the black leather jacket, calmly standing behind the Silurian regarded her quietly; the two blue obstacles he must have called his eyes rested on her as he spoke: "I am the Doctor."

"You're not the Doctor," snapped Jack, "You may look like him but you're... I..."

"Jack, who is this?" asked Martha, still looking back and forth between the fleshly intruder and the reptilian one.  
"He's the Doctor," replied Jack, "But not _the_ Doctor."

The man in the black leatherjacket sighed and placed a hand on the green creature's shoulder, signalising it to put down the screwdriver.  
Martha, now realizing that she still had her arms in the air, placed them on her hips and took a deep breath; Jack dreaded what was coming.

"Okay, what's all of this? Who is this, who is his companion and why do you call him the Doctor and stop glaring at me Jack you know that you can't outstare me!"

"I am the Doctor," repeated the man in front of her.  
"No, you're not," snapped Martha.  
Jack tried to calm her down.  
"He _is_ the Doctor Martha," he began, only to receive a death-glare, "Just not the Doctor you know."

"What do you mean?"  
"This is in fact the Doctor," Jack heard the weak voice of his Doctor right by his ear.  
He wanted to turn around but stopped as a firm hand was placed on his shoulder.  
"Please...don't," the Doctor whispered hoarsely.  
Jack nodded quietly.

Martha gave the Doctor a sideway glanced; as she didn't spot too much blood she turned her head away from the shivering figure behind Jack and faced the man her Doctor had just called the Doctor.

"In fact," the Doctor went on, one hand clutching at his lower abdomen as he panted, the other one supporting the small bundle he'd pressed against his chest "He _is_ the Doctor. He, as a matter of fact, is me; well, I am who he is...well, better yet, _was_. Which is, in fact, the point."

The Doctor approached his former self in the leather jacket and eyed him up suspiciously.

"This charming emerald coloured reptilian is what you call a Devonian..."

"Silurian," corrected the addressed alien.

"...Silurian, of course," added the Doctor, "Not with all the tentacles and fins and stuff. And seeing that you, I mean I, have brought a Silurian to this place is a sure sign that you, as I mean myself, have been meddling with time."

The Doctor took a step towards the Silurian who smiled miserably.  
"I quite well remember your kind becoming extinct, which actually added another one to my list of strange names as I was invested as 'Slayer of the Lizards'."

"Stop it," snapped the Doctor's former self.  
"Oh, and who are you to shut me up?" snapped the Doctor, "Apparently you're even younger than me and I wouldn't even listen to myself if it was my twelfth regeneration talking to me."

The Doctor's former self sighed.

Something squirmed in the Doctor's arms, something Jack couldn't see.  
And it was driving him insane.  
But Martha had to stop him as he tried to reach out to the Doctor, and it took nothing more than a quiet "Don't" and a penetrating glare to let Jack miserably retrieve his hand.

"I knew there was no sense in trying to talk sense into myself," sighed the Doctor's former self crestfallen.  
"I could have told you," added the Doctor.

"As a matter of fact you did."

The Doctor growled.  
"You know what I don't like about this?" he asked visibly annoyed, "I can't even be mad at you! I was the one you tortured, I was the one who was put through all the misery and a living hell as the abomination beside you added valves to my digestive system, ground down my bones and disfigured my body for whatever reason and I can't even be mad at you because it was under your direction, which means I've been racking myself! And worst of all: I can't even remember why!"

"Because you needed to," replied his former self in a docile voice.  
"What for?" asked the Doctor and was about to shout at his previous reflection as he froze.  
There were footsteps approaching.

And a voice echoing through Torchwood's deserted hall.

"Hello? Doctor?"

And both the Doctors stared at each other in shocked silence as the footsteps neared.  
In the blink of an eye (a very quick eye indeed) the Doctor rushed past Jack and Martha and even before they could have turned around the box behind them was shut and, judging by the sounds, nailed up.

"That was a girl's voice," mumbled Martha as she tried to digest what she's just seen, which was, in fact, an enraged Doctor turning into a frightened flight animal in a wink.  
"Who is she?"

"Rose," replied Jack and the former Doctor's self simultaneously.

"The _Blonde_?"


	37. Dead Inside

Jack climbed the ladder to his office.  
The Doctor sat at Jack's desk, staring into space. He didn't even care to look up as Jack entered.

"Don't worry, the girls are getting along great," answered Jack the question the Doctor hadn't asked.  
And wouldn't ask...  
Jack stepped closer and stared into the Doctor's glassy eyes.  
They were darker than usual. Not the beautiful hazel brown with a dash of golden sparkles, no – they were empty.

Jack moved a hand in front of one of the Doctor's eyes.  
He didn't blink.

"Hello?" asked Jack, getting nervous by now, "Anyone in there? Doctor?"  
He didn't budge.  
Jack came closer, grasping both of his hands.  
"Doctor?"  
All of a sudden the Doctor shook his head, his eyes still fixed on the nothingness only he could see.

Jack caressed his cheeks, wiping away the silently running tears.  
The Doctor cried quietly... no. It didn't look like crying. He was neither hyperventilating nor sobbing, no sounds escaped from his lips.  
His heartbeats were more than average.  
If it wasn't for his leaking eyes Jack wouldn't even have noticed anything strange.

"No, Jack," said the Doctor all of a sudden, causing Jack to give a jerk.  
"What? Doctor?"  
"I don't need a doctor," mumbled the Doctor quietly as he popped his head to one side, the dark void inside of his eyes slowly trickling to the lowest point.  
Beneath the dark and disappearing shadow a pair of piercing blue eyes appeared.

Jack backed away.  
"Doctor?"

The Doctor stared at him absent-minded, as if he'd never seen anything his size and height before.  
And then he blinked.

The Doctor raised his head a bit, his eyes focussing on Jack.

"Doctor?" repeated Jack carefully, slowly approaching him.  
The Doctor turned his head this way and that way before reaching up to his neck, scratching it thoughtfully.

"Doctor?"  
"Yes, Jack, apparently the Doctor is IN," replied the Doctor and arose from his seat, looking around irritated, "at least in here," he cast another puzzled glance at his surroundings,  
"Wherever that is."

"My office, Doctor," explained Jack, eyeing up the Doctor suspiciously.  
"Mh. Can't remember ever being here. Why did you bring me here in the first place?" asked the Doctor.  
"You brought yourself," replied Jack, "I didn't even know you were here."  
"Fancy that," smiled the Doctor, "Neither did I."  
He sagged back into the chair, his hands clutching at his stomach.

Jack pulled a wry face.  
"At least that's over now," said the Doctor who had pulled up his shirt to take a look at the scars across his stomach.

"And the... child?" asked Jack carefully.  
The Doctor stared at him, as if concentrating on remembering something important.  
"The child?" repeated the Doctor, still thinking, "What child?"

"Doctor you... is this some kind of birth related amnesia?" Jack went on.  
"What... what are you even...?"

"Please, keep calm," said Jack, getting nervous again as the Doctor arose, still clutching at the healing wounds on his stomach. It was the blank stare that made him uneasy.  
He'd never seen the Doctor so devastated and God... he'd seen so much in the past months!  
He forced the Doctor to sit down again and backed away:  
"Please, just wait, I'll call you a doctor..."

"No need for that," said a voice behind him.  
Jack turned around to face what he'd once known as the Doctor's face.  
Which at the moment belonged to his previous reincarnation.

He looked back and forth between the Doctor's regenerations.  
"You're not even a proper doctor," snapped the Doctor.  
"Just like you," snapped his previous reincarnation.  
"Yeah, but I don't run around cutting people open with a little help from my monstrous green friend!" yelled the Doctor.  
"No need for that kind of language," his previous regeneration shook his head, "And Dr. Malohkeh is a very talented Silurian."  
"Oh, is that the case? Well, then I won't definitely mind, as long as he doesn't try to sew a tail to my body..." the Doctor began nastily but broke off as a tremor spread through his body.  
Once again he collapsed onto the chair.

"You need rest," said the Doctor's previous regeneration levelly, placing a hand on the Doctor's shoulder in a calming way.  
"How come you are an expert on this?" snapped the Doctor.  
Jack knew this tone of voice.

It was the threatening calmness before an approaching storm.  
"You think you know what it's like to bear a child?" hissed the Doctor.  
Right, thought Jack, backing away a bit, and there we go...  
"How dare you come in here and patronize me like a damn father? Didn't I just gave birth to one that you could chaperon? And do you know... do you even think you know...Do you even think you can understand how I'm feeling right now?!"

The Doctor's outraged voice managed to echo, even in Jack's small office.  
The Doctor's previous regeneration breathed in deeply, giving his future self a penetrating stare.  
"Actually, I do," he said, his tone of voice as cold as ice.  
They stared into one another's eyes.

"You seem to forget that we share the same past," his regeneration went on after a while.  
The Doctor snorted audibly,  
"But you don't know what it was like to have a child at my age," he went on sourly.  
"You've got a point there," agreed his previous regeneration, adding bitterly "But soon I will."

Jack took a deep breath, feeling two pairs of the Doctor's eyes on him.  
But their attention was just what he wanted right now.

"So, the child..." he began, to release the built-up tension.  
"What about it?" snapped both Doctors simultaneously only to give each other accusing glares as soon as they had both spoken.  
"What is this child...? I mean... what's the purpose of it?"  
"What is the purpose of any child?" snorted the Doctor, "What are they for, anyway?"  
"A rhetorical question, implying a disturbing past," concluded the previous Doctor, "Jack, you know me in this future form. Am I always like this?"

Jack stared into the blue glistening eyes of the Doctor's previous regeneration.  
He couldn't believe what he'd just seen.  
The Doctor's former regeneration may have abducted his future regeneration to perform operations on him, to force him into bearing a child and now... they were arguing about their behaviour.  
Jack had to bring to mind that both those Doctors were forms of the same man.  
Who was, apparently, even madder than he had expected.

"Oh and let me guess, you're still trying that 'I'm the villain people need' cliché, aren't you? I thought I had grown out of it by now," nagged the Doctor, "And by the way, I must have been you. I must have talked to my future self, which is me by now. I must have been here before. Well, actually I'm here, we both are and I was because you're here and... How come I'm not having any kind of déjà vu?"

"You have forgotten," replied the previous Doctor before looking at Jack. "We all have. And we all will forget it again. Dr. Malohkeh has developed a drug that will help us all to forget what has happened."

"And you think I'll just be stupid enough to take it?" asked the Doctor accusingly, "How could I trust you?"  
"I know that you'll trust me," said the previous Doctor, "Because you used to be me and you knew that your future self would do it. It has to happen."  
"It's a time-loop," mumbled the Doctor before scratching his chin while thinking.

Eventually he shook his head.  
"No, no, no, it just doesn't work like this. You can't just come here, put a child inside of me, take it away from me and disappear without saying anything, because you know that I've done the same. A time-loop just doesn't work like this, and by the way, that would mean that I'm constantly crossing my own Timeline, which is also, I have to remind you, forbidden."

"You tell me," snapped the previous Doctor.  
"I just did."  
"Keep telling that to yourself."  
"I just did!" yelled the Doctor.  
"Doctor, please!" said Jack, trying to calm them.

The Doctor breathed in deeply and cocked and eyebrow at his past regeneration.  
"I'm going to ask you one question, only one thing. I won't ask you where you're going to take the baby, how you managed to create it, where your Silurian friend got his knowledge of Time Lord anatomy from or even if you're going to repeat the procedure any time soon. Just one thing I want to ask you:  
Why? Just: why?"

"There was a big disturbance," said the Doctor's former self, "a gap in the fabric of reality, threatening to demolish the space-time-continuum. And I... I didn't know what else to do."

"The Doctor at his wit's end?" harrumphed the Doctor, "Doesn't sound like me at all."  
"The universe started to collapse... there were signs that only in a few months..." the Doctor's previous regeneration began before hesitating.  
"You see... time was starting to rewrite itself. But not in the way of changing history. It started untying and eliminating itself. Just one little imbalance in the universe and poof!..."  
The Doctor nodded; and he was still obviously lost in thought as he added, "And up goes the donkey."

Both Jack and the previous Doctor stared at him as if he was out of his mind.

"Anyway," the Doctor's previous regeneration went on, "We didn't have much time to reverse it. And we didn't know how much damage it had already done. So we... I..." he turned to face the Doctor, staring at him with begging blue eyes:  
"Like I said I didn't know what else to do. The earth was in danger, well, not only the earth, most of the planets, at least the way we know them. And the disruption was starting to spread. The disequilibrium..."

"What kind of imbalance are we talking about?" interrupted Jack, "Did anything go wrong? Like someone pulled the wrong lever on the great big machine called 'Universe'?"  
"Shut up Jack," snapped both of the Doctors before sharing an puzzled stare.  
"Not the right times for jokes, I'm afraid..." sighed the Doctor after the embarrassed silence had dispersed.  
"It wasn't meant to be a joke," growled Jack.

"Though he's got a point there, you know," the Doctor went on accusingly, "Usually when I appear I try to tie up the loose ends, summarize it all..."  
The Doctor's previous regeneration hesitated; he avoided the Doctor's furious stare.  
"Answer me!" yelled the Doctor, causing even Jack to jolt, "What was it?"

"A thing," said the previous Doctor.  
"The universe doesn't disrupt itself that easily," growled the Doctor, "What kind of a thing?!"  
"A living being," was the reluctant reply.  
"I think we're on here to something," mumbled the Doctor before approaching his past self, "What kind of living being?"

The Doctor's previous regeneration sighed, his flashing blue eyes darting a quick glance at the Doctor in front of him.

"A Time Lord," he said eventually, probably a bit too dramatic.


	38. Mercy

Jack was the first to find his tongue again:  
"What? But that's impossible! I mean... I thought..."  
"He's managed to break through the barrier," the previous Doctor went on.  
"He?" asked Jack, 'presentiment of danger' written all over his face.  
"It's him, isn't it?" growled the Doctor.  
"The Master."

There was a pause before the Doctor added:  
"That wasn't actually a rhetorical question. Is it really the Master?"  
His former self nodded.  
Unconsciously, Jack clenched his fists.

"His escape caused the imbalance..." the Doctor deduced and his eyes started to gleam, as the answers rushed through his head, "Oh, yes, of course... if he's managed to leave the place, then his sudden non-existence equals anti-presence, his absence is not only misbalancing the universe, it's creating some kind of osmotic pressure which means... no, no, it's not only an unequal distribution of energy, it creates negative pressure, causing the universe to try to suck itself in... which means..."

He turned to face his previous incarnation and Jack, both gaping at him.

"You needed something to fill the absence," concluded the Doctor sourly, staring at his former self,  
"So much for the child."

Jack, still gaping at the Doctor, was dumbstruck by the Doctor's sloppy reply; eventually he found his voice to ask the question that seemed to linger in the air.  
"But why him? Why the Doctor?"

"He means: why me?" explained the Doctor, rolling his eyes at Jack, "Some beings just lose their heads when some time-line crossing happens."  
"I'm not losing..." Jack began before taking a deep breath and cooling down his head, "I'll pardon your constant nagging remarks but only because of the maternal postnatal paralysis or whatever it is you're currently going through. But believe me under different circumstances _this_ , this here, would be just what I've always been dreaming off."

The two Doctor's exchanged glances; the present Doctor froze while his previous incarnation shook his head in disappointment.  
"You can't help it," the current Doctor tried to explain to his former self, "Some things just never change."  
"Just like your good-heartedness," added the previous Doctor.  
The Doctor stared at him in wonder.

"You wanted to know why I did that to you? You asked me 'why me?'. But you know why: Because I know that it's me. And because I know that I can endure it. Just like you."

The Doctor's hazel eyes became wider and he stared at his former self as one of his hands rested on his shoulder.  
Two eyes, both deeper and older than the universe itself, melded.  
And the Doctor began to understand.

"You... because... I... no, that... I mean..." the Doctor stammered.  
In his head, the thought was turned this way and that way, was twisted and squashed and stretched like a chewing gum caught in gear-wheels.  
"Well, after all this I'm... oh, yes... oh..."  
Jack's face radiated alertness as he watched the Doctor reconsidering and distilling the answer he'd been looking for all these months.

"I'm a genius!"  
Both Jack and the former Doctor flinched at the Doctor's sudden outburst as realization dawned.

Totally ignoring his injuries the Doctor jumped up and down in excitement.  
"Yes, that's brilliant, that's fantastic! And I've done it myself. All this time! It's been me all this time!"

Jack leaned closer to the Doctor's former self, whose eyes were still fixed on his future regeneration, whispering: "Is this normal?"  
The Doctor's former self stared at him for a moment, before shrugging eventually: "I've never been normal. But seeing him... knowing that I'll become him one day... that's a disturbingly unattractive prospect."  
"Disturbing... possibly," agreed Jack, "but I wouldn't call it unattractive..."  
"Just look at him!" insisted the Doctor's former regeneration, "He's ridiculous! He's a laughing stock."

Jack tumbled a bit as the Doctor jumped on his back, hugging him intensely.  
"How could I've been so thick? I've suspected the Master and Borusa knows who. But myself? Hah! I'm brilliant!"  
Jack sighed and tried to smile as the Doctor nuzzled his neck.

Slowly the Doctor seemed to return to normal (or at least as normal as you could expect him to become).

"So" he began in a level voice, facing his former self "as I know myself, you'll try to pack your bags and sneak off as soon as I turn my back on you. Well, it's what I'd expect you to do; well, I know that you'll do it because I've been you before and therefore know what you'll do... But before you go to throw the wretched child into the untempered suction I'd like to have a word with your so-called surgeon."

The Doctor's former self nodded and was about to turn as he lifted his gaze to look the Doctor deeply in the eye.  
"Don't wreak it on him. You know he's not to blame," the previous Doctor said, touching his future self's wrist fondly, "He's just like us."

The Doctor stared at him penetratingly and nodded glumly.  
"The last of his kind, I know. By the time he leaves you there will be no one left of his race. But no, that's not it..." added the Doctor, lifting the mood a bit.  
"He was kind enough to perform the surgery under your... _my_ instruction. In return...there's something I want to give him."

* * *

"A book?" asked Jack.  
The Doctor rummaged through the books, thumbing through endless leaves while scattering pages all over the floor.  
"Make yourself useful and help me find it," snapped the Doctor while tossing aside a tome; it floated before rupturing in mid air, showering both of them in yellowed pages.  
"But I don't even know what kind of book you're looking for," lamented Jack.  
"It's a script, Jack. Dr. Neakahla's script. So be so kind to step aside, you might be standing on some of its pages right now..."  
"You mean... it's not even bound?"  
"Just hold that for a moment, will you? And I told you, don't step on those pages, they're invaluable! Well, the books were invaluable... well, most of them... well..."

Jack sighed and held the huge tomes the Doctor had handed him; the Doctor, sweeping the room like a whirlwind, passed Jack and piled up the books in his hands consistently.  
"Stop pushing me!"  
"You're in my way, Jack."  
"Run that past me again, will you?" said Jack.  
"What?"

The pile of books in Jack's hands collapsed; they didn't as much fall as explode on the ground, spreading their leftover pages everywhere.  
Jack folded his arms and snorted.  
The Doctor had felt the change in Jack's mood; he stopped, halfway through a pile, staring at Jack.

"All of this time... all of this time I've supported you, I looked after you, I _cared_ for you, I really did... and you don't even bother explaining to me what's going on? You think you don't have to tell _me,_ after all I've done for you?"  
"Jack please," said the Doctor levelly, slowly arising.  
"No, no more, 'Jack please'! I'm not gonna stand there and let you keep doing what you always do; you're not gonna get rid of me that easily. If I hadn't followed you I know, _I know_ , that you would have left an hour ago without even saying a word, Doctor. And I've had it. You never... You didn't even... I've just...I..."  
Jack stopped in mid-sentence, continuing in a low growling noise.  
"Jack," the Doctor was standing in front of him by now, caressing his cheeks, "It's been a long day. For all of us. And don't think that I wouldn't know what you've done for me."

Jack breathed in deeply, trying to sort out his thoughts; somehow the Doctor always managed to calm him down.  
But this time it wouldn't be enough.

"What will happen to the child?" Jack asked the first question that came to his mind right away.  
The Doctor shrugged.  
"It will serve its purpose," he replied.  
"Meaning?" snapped Jack.  
"Meaning that the Doctor will throw it into the threateningly expanding suction that occurred due to the Master's escape."  
"He's going to take it to Gallifrey?" asked Jack.  
The Doctor nodded.  
Jack went on, a bit more reluctant.  
"Will it... survive?"  
Again, the Doctor shrugged. "Oh, worse things happened to me when I was young. A few broken bones, some ruptured organs... but you know, for a Time Lord... it's not that complicated..."

"Wait," Jack gaped at him, "This child is a Time Lord?"  
The Doctor sighed. He knew why he didn't like talking to Jack... oh well; you better let the cat out of the bag before it gets time to realize what's going on.

"Yes, Jack," said the Doctor quietly and guided him to the uncomfortable chair in his library, "I'll try to explain it and put it as bluntly to you as I can, alright?"  
Jack nodded.  
So, this is it...

"You see Jack... this child... the wretched thing I've been carrying around with me for the last months _is_ me...No, don't start, let me explain it first; you see, Jack, Dr. Malohkeh, that's the Silurian surgeon, needed another being, a being similar to the one that had escaped, which was in fact the Master, but that's beside the point. So anyway... Yes, of course, the loom. I've told you about the loom, haven't I? I didn't? Didn't I tell you about the loom and how you can create new life forms? No? Blimey, I always skip the exciting parts in my life... Well, the loom is a... a thing. It's Time Lord technology. You can create new Time Lords with it.  
Stop it Jack, I saw you smirking there for a moment.  
In fact, the Loom doesn't really create Time Lords; it duplicates them, but rearranges the DNA before doing so. It's like... Imagine a cell; a tiny little cell; that's you after your procreation.  
And soon the cell will start to divide. And it will grow and duplicate its DNA until it forms what you could roughly call an embryo.  
Now, imagine you duplicate the first cell, the cell that's been you. It's still you in fact, but... it fissures and forms differently. That's just what cells do, they have no concept of what they'll become. They'll become a being. But it's not gonna be you. It's possibly not even gonna be like you.  
So yes, Jack the child is mine, it's been created from my DNA. In a way you could say it's me... in the same way that you could say that an amoeba is your brother. It's all... a matter of perspective."

Jack stared at the Doctor, obviously having trouble to digest what he'd just been told.  
But the Doctor went on, knowing the questions on the tip of Jack's tongue.

"I know that you're mad at me because I didn't tell you what was going on. And I'm sorry Jack. I'm really sorry.  
I've... my former self really opened my eyes. It has been my plan Jack.  
 _My_ plan.  
I planned this whole thing. When I used to be him. I... Back then I dreaded the consequences. Give the universe one little ripple and it tears like a poppy blossom.  
It's delicate. And very, very dense.  
And I knew it. I had to prevent things from happening. Basically I did nothing; I mean, what I did I did to myself. So no-one had to suffer.  
When I used to be him... my previous form... I used to do it to my future self. Right now, I'm the future one. And the past one knows that one day it's going to happen to him. "  
"It's a Time Loop," concluded Jack.  
"Yes, Jack."  
"But why _you_?" asked Jack; his pleading voice was like a knife thrust into the Doctor's chest  
"I mean why did you do it to yourself? You could have asked me for help! You're... You mean everything to me! And I'm practically immortal, I can't die! I would have endured it..."  
"For you," he added quietly, obviously ashamed of his romantic vein.

The Doctor smiled fondly; then he said those tender words Jack would die (... well, probably die and die again) for to hear them:  
"I know Jack. I know that you love me. And I'm sorry for all the pain you had to suffer, for everything I did to you. I tried to protect you; I never wanted anybody to suffer but me. And all I did," and when he smiled this time, Jack's heart skipped a beat, "I did for you."

Jack nodded quietly, both rage and bewilderment rushing through his veins.  
He stroked the Doctor, who was sitting in his lap, tenderly before searching his gaze:  
"You really did mean that, didn't you?"  
The Doctor sighed, replying a weak ,"yes".  
Jack couldn't hide his excitement.

Jack was content with the situation; and that after hearing that the Doctor had given birth to something, most closely described as his clone.  
Somehow the Doctor always managed it to make everything seem alright...

Jack patted the Doctor's hand softly whilst smiling like a maniac.  
"You're still wearing it," he sniggered.  
The Doctor looked down on the engagement ring Jack had given him what felt like years ago.  
"Couldn't get the bloody thing off my finger," he mumbled ,"You did that on purpose, didn't you? You gave me a ring that shrank as soon as I put it on; no wonder it's said that fifty-first century engagements are indissoluble."

Jack caressed the Doctor, rocking him forth and back in his arms.  
"You wouldn't want to marry me, would you?" asked Jack unobtrusively.  
"What kind of a question is that?" snapped the Doctor "Are you trying pre-emptive cuteness on me? Well, actually I don't care, because no matter what you wanted it to be, _that_ , Jack, was the worst proposal ever."

Jack's heart sagged a bit; but something, deep down inside of him, asked:  
What did you expect him to say? The Doctor never answers a simple question with a simple answer.  
Starting a hare he asked instead: "A Time Lord and an immortal human being from the future... Do you think we could get legally married?"

The Doctor stared at him, replying unabashed:  
"If it's not forbidden, then it should be."

Jack laughed, feeling stress-relieved for the first time in months.  
Nevertheless he tried to shove the Doctor from his lap.  
"Oh come on, that wasn't too mean, was it?" the Doctor kept smiling.  
Jack didn't seem to pay much attention; he arose quietly from his seat before turning around and lifting the blanket that covered the thought-to-be chair.

"There's nothing wrong with the seat..." said the Doctor, "It's always been like this, entirely made of... books..."  
The Doctor knelt down, rummaging through the leaves and miserably bound scripts.  
"The only chair you own is made of books?"  
"I didn't know it was... it was just uncomfortable, that was all."  
"Then why didn't you throw it away?"  
"You can't just throw things away because they make you feel uncomfortable," said the Doctor with a cheeky smile on his lips, "Otherwise why should I keep you?"  
"Doctor..." sighed Jack, though he didn't finish the sentence. The Doctor pushed him aside and grabbed some scripts, thus causing the so-called chair to collapse.

The Doctor smiled like a rocking horse on prescription medicine.  
"Hah!"

"What?" asked Jack.  
"I knew it! I knew it had to be somewhere around here! Hah!"  
"Doctor?"  
Jack snatched the paper from the madly shouting Time Lord to stare at a bunch of scribbles.  
"What is that?"

"It's Doctor Neakahla's script! I knew it! I knew it!"  
"So?"  
"Now I can give it to the Silurian surgeon. You know, just in case he decides he wants a rerun. Everything you need you can find in that book. Everything. For Time Lords, that is."

"Do you think that's wise, Doctor?" asked Jack wonderingly, "You don't want to give him the wrong ideas, do you?"  
"If he ever has to perform any kind of operation on a Time Lord ever again," said the Doctor firmly, grabbing Jack's hands, "Then I want him to do it properly."  
He sighed, resting his head on Jack's shoulder, "I've got a feeling that he's going to need it."  
"I've got a feeling that you're going to regret it," snapped Jack.  
"Naw, don't be like that, Jack," said the Doctor dismissing the thought immediately.

"Everything's going to turn out alright. I just know it."


	39. Aftermath (Bonus Chapter)

There was a splashing sound and the constant gurgling from the overflow gutter.  
A dim blue light illuminated the moist and steamy room.  
The Doctor emerged from the water, heading for the edge of the pool and hurrying to reach the ladder quickly enough.  
But he only reached the second rung before Jack surfaced;

"We're not finished yet," he spat between heavy gasps, thereby grabbing the kicking and screaming Time Lord and pulling him under water again.

The Doctor's world was turned upside down, flashing lights flickering in front of his eyes caused him to squint; the sudden inrush of noise ended abruptly and was followed by muffled silence. The Doctor opened his eyes in his light blue surrounding, hearing the TARDIS' soothing humming even underwater.  
And the first thing he saw was Jack's crotch.

The Doctor tried to back away but Jack's hands were already buried in his hair, pulling the Doctor's face towards his throbbing member.  
The Doctor opened his mouth slowly, trying not to swallow as he sucked on Jack's boner, feeling every strike on his soft palate.  
The Doctor offered no resistance, nor did he try to free himself from Jack's grip, not even after dark dots started to dance before his eyes and the world around him became a darkening swirl.  
Finally Jack pulled him to the surface.

"I don't want to drown you, a good shag would be enough, thank you very much," sighed Jack with a snappy undertone.  
His words were lost on the Doctor, who tried to steady himself as he struggled for air.

"Oh, come on now," Jack dashed forward and grabbed the staggering Time Lord, embracing him affectionately. The Doctor rested in his arms and smiled mildly, nibbling on Jack's ear whenever he came within his reach.

"I love you, Jack," he whispered softly and tried to kiss him.

"That's the hypoxia talking, isn't it?" said Jack as he tried to drag the Doctor to the pool's edge.  
The Doctor giggled, with a light-headedness that was somewhat beguiling.  
Jack stared at the Doctor for a moment, obviously lost in thought.  
Eventually the fifty-first-century-human-being-instincts kicked in, affirming that you can always make the best of it, adding 'what you don't know won't hurt you'.  
And Jack hoped that it was true; because he wasn't going to go easy on the Doctor this time.

Jack embraced the Doctor, kissing his chest and neck as he moved lightly in the water; the Doctor offered no resistance and simply let himself get pushed and shoved through the pool.  
Jack felt his blood rushing down into his pelvic area when he stared the Doctor's beloved body, the skinny and yet delicate structures, his beautiful complexion, his soft and tender lips...

Jack slammed the Doctor into the side of the pool in one quick move before forcing himself upon him. He nailed the Doctor to the tilled wall by grabbing his arms; he moved between the Doctor's legs, locking his legs into position by pushing his knees against the Doctor's thighs.  
The Doctor stared at him with a look of mild confusion before putting on his dizzy smile again.  
And somehow this was even more of a turn on for Jack.

Jack couldn't restrain himself any longer; in one quick move he pressed the dazed Time Lord against the wall and pushed into him, forcibly entering the Doctor's tense and vulnerable cavity.

The Doctor remained unmoved, Jack's harsh and sudden entering didn't as much shock as astound him. Barely in his right mind the Doctor's mouth dropped open; neither a word nor a sound escaping from his lips as he was still unable to speak.  
And by his gleaming eyes Jack could tell that it was the inrushing lust that deprived him off his senses.  
Every sensation was stimulating; every look of the Doctor reflected pure arousal.

And again, two words that tipped Jack over the top.

"Please, Jack."

Jack could barely hold back as he buried himself in the Time Lord, more intensely, more violent, just thrusting in and out, faster, always moving faster and faster; he picked up the pace to give the Doctor a good screw only to slow down again as he felt his muscles vibrating with the built up tension.

It must have been weeks if not months since he'd touched the Doctor.  
And a couple of hours were usually sufficient for a human being from the fifty-first century for feeling sex-starved.

"Please, Jack...please..."

Jack pounced on the Doctor, smashing both of their by now entwined bodies against the tilled wall, penetrating him deeply, feeling the Doctor's twitching and throbbing insides, the hot movement, the unrestrainable urges, hearing the Doctor's constant pleas while he moved faster and faster, harsher and harsher, still pushing shamelessly into his sore entrance...  
Hearing the Doctor moaning, whispering such sweet words...  
...experiencing the fragile and skinny body beneath him, twitching uncontrollably with unprecedented uproar of pure prurience...  
...feeling his own cock pulsating and swelling inside of the Doctor... stretching him... wearing him out...

And Jack stopped.  
He felt the Doctor shivering beneath him and clutching at his warm body as his hot cum shot into his intestines.  
The Doctor's sore cavity gaped uncontrollably as Jack removed his still swollen prick, the recent proof of love gushing out and mixing with the water.

And for the first time the Doctor looked him in the eye for real. His mouth was still open, though it was probably consternation which had overtaken bafflement.

Jack, quick reacting as always, hurled the Doctor out of the pool and onto the warm blue little tiles, which covered the floor with their beautiful pattern, and massaged life back into the Doctor's still twitching todger.  
Then he caressed it with his lips.  
He pressed the Doctor flat down on the tiles, kneeling above him and stimulated the soft skin between the Doctor's legs with practised preciseness.

The Doctor winced as he felt that he couldn't hold back any longer.  
Jack seemed unimpressed, his constant movement slowly receding.  
Eventually he swallowed.

The Doctor stroked Jack's hair before burying his fingers deeper into it; he pulled Jack up, meeting him face to face.  
Jack searched his gaze.  
Feeling the arising urge to say something romantic he whispered:  
"From this moment...from this moment you will never be alone..."

The Doctor smiled, shaking his head slightly while he kept caressing Jack's cheeks.  
He couldn't bite back a chuckle.

"Shame on you Jack."

And he sealed Jack's lips with a kiss.


End file.
